Firewalker
by Pantherfang
Summary: 50 years on from their journey, the new Clans have settled permanently. Yet a darkness is coming, brought on by the destruction of one Clan and growing fury in others-a darkness that spreads as nature itself corrupts. As tension reaches fever-point, a schizophrenic she-kit is born. She brings the power of catalysis; all who meet her will have their destinies forever altered.
1. Prologue: Nighthawk

**Moon of the Red Leaves, 3****rd**** Sun  
In the season of Leaf-Fall  
Year 52, Clan-Time**

Nighthawk sneezed. "Great StarClan, what kind of weather is this?"  
Rain beat down in steady sheets across the moor. Without any trees to absorb the excess water, gaps between the small hills had become miniature waterfalls, and several sections of brush had been washed away by the relentless torrent. The moorland drained well, so there was not much mud, but there was sand, and there were very few things that Nighthawk hated more than wet sand clinging to her pelt.

Still muttering crossly under her breath, the she-cat dug a shallow scrape into the side of a crest of land. It shielded her from the worst of the wind and the rain, and she began to gingerly lick the irritating grains from her smoke-black fur.  
She remained on the alert while doing this. Though she highly doubted there would be a patrol in weather like this—LightningClan cats loathed all forms of water—she was too old and wise to trust her fate to luck. Luck had done nothing for her in all her six years of life.

Three years ago, Nighthawk had once been a proud DarkClan warrior, and her home had been in the broadleaf woodland. Her courage, intelligence, fighting skill, and sharp tongue had become almost legendary among the Clans and there had been talk that her leader planned on naming her deputy—almost unheard of for a cat of that age. Her dreams had been shattered, however, when she was accused of murder and exiled until the end of her days.  
There had never been any real doubt that she'd killed her Clanmate, a warrior named Spiderwhisker. Her fur had been found in his claws, and her teeth fit into the marks in his neck. Not only that, she'd freely confessed to her crime when her leader had questioned her. She did not hold any grudges against her Clan for her banishment. They'd had no other choice.

It was only later, when the uproar over the murder had died down, that some cats began to wonder _why _Nighthawk had thrown away her future over a simple argument. They began to remember Spiderwhisker more personally—an ambitious braggart who believed that the leadership of DarkClan was his by right. He carried the blood of Darkstar, the first leader of DarkClan. Nighthawk was not pure Clan—her mother had had an affair with, and was later murdered by, a rogue—and believed firmly that where you came from was not as important as what you did. They were destined to dislike each other.  
The observers' memories extended further, to the constant taunts and sly sabotage Spiderwhisker had directed towards Nighthawk. When she went on hunts, the prey she buried often went missing and turned up as part of Spiderwhisker's catch. Eventually, they came to the conclusion that Nighthawk must have been severely provoked by the tom.

Of course, this did not even come close to the real reason. Nighthawk found out that Spiderwhisker had murdered his own apprentice after he caught her sneaking out to meet a BrokenClan warrior. Evidently he had thought that her shame might be contagious and affect his chances of deputyship. Nighthawk had confronted him, and when she realised that she had no proof of his crime and never would, she'd killed him.  
Nighthawk brooded over her past for a few more minutes. She'd never told anyone this; for all her hatred of Spiderwhisker, she was superstitious and believed firmly that it was bad luck to speak ill of the dead. Even _her _dead. What did it matter anymore? He would have faced StarClan's justice. So would she, in time.

A faint noise disturbed her thoughts. Initially she ignored it, but the sound returned again, more loudly. It seemed to be coming from the earth.  
_A mouse nest? _she wondered. It was an unusual place to have one, but she'd never pass up fresh-kill if she had the chance. She quickly dug her paws into the sand, clicking her tongue in annoyance as her feet became fouled once again.  
Her paws brushed against something warm and wet. She stuck her nose into the hole and pulled out the hapless animal.

Then she dropped it. It was no mouse.  
It was a _kit, _a bedraggled, filthy scrap of a thing, wailing in hunger and fear. Sand encrusted her fur and the lines of her eyes, still clamped shut. The little cat cried out desperately, and pressed herself up against Nighthawk's belly, searching for milk.  
"You're wasting your time, kit," sighed Nighthawk. "I'm barren. Never had children, never will."  
The kit yowled.  
Nighthawk jabbed her with a paw. "Shut up."  
Amazingly enough, the kit did.

"Your mother tried to kill you, didn't she? I can tell. You still carry her scent, though the rain's washed most of it away." Nighthawk had been blessed with an extraordinary sense of smell. No other cat would be able to pick up the faint odour rising from the kit's pelt.  
She drew it in through her scent glands, tasting it. "Hmm. A LightningClan cat. Well, that's to be expected. Young. Frightened." She caught another scent, and frowned. "I'll even tell you this for nothing—your medicine cat knows who you are, if she isn't your mother herself. Borage leaves, to help her milk come. Anyway, tell your mother that she's an idiot. Too cowardly to kill you with her own claws, so she tried to bury you alive. Except that she buried you in sand, and loose sand at that. Lots of air between the little grains. You'd have probably died of hunger before you suffocated. You might find this surprising, but babies are hard to kill. That's because they can slow their breathing and heart rate right down to almost nothing, so they can stay alive for a very long time."

The kit made a small noise and rubbed her head against Nighthawk's belly. The she-cat was strangely touched by the gesture, but try as she might, she couldn't feel any love for the kit. It didn't share her blood and it carried the scent of another Clan.  
"So, then," Nighthawk mewed, "what to do with you?"  
Perhaps the most merciful thing to do would be to kill the little cat. She was cold, exhausted, and did not look strong. Yet the black she-cat disliked the idea; she'd been responsible for more than enough death for one lifetime. It was not just that, though. Despite her mother's best attempts to murder her, the kit had survived, and kept enough spirit to call for help. She had a will to live that was as tough as Nighthawk's own.

A sense of mischief awoke inside Nighthawk. "You know what I'm going to do, kit?" she told the little one. "I'm going to take you back to your Clan. Rapidstar's a decent cat—he'll accept you. It's in the warrior code, after all. But I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart, oh, no, this is for my amusement. I'll be laughing until the end of my days. Can you imagine the look on your birth mother's face when she sees you alive and safe? Not only that, but she'll have to watch you grow up, fight and hunt by your side…oh, great StarClan! She might even become your mentor! Do you think she'll be able to cope with the guilt? I mean, it's pretty much the most awful thing a cat can do." Still chuckling, she scooped up the kit and trotted to the LightningClan camp.

A thought stopped her, and she flicked her ears against the rain and put the kit down again. "You know, this is a bad time for the Clans," she mewed, almost conversationally. "SnowClan's just been destroyed by HollowClan. Everyone in that Clan is dead except for a couple of the younger kits. Everyone's very serious and uptight about it, and they're worried it'll be the end of the warrior code. I doubt it. Clawstar just had a vendetta against Brightstar, that's all. But nobody listens to me anymore." She touched her nose to that of the kit's.  
"Only StarClan can give cats extra lives, but I can give you a gift. I bestow upon you the gift of a sharp wit. It may not sound like much, but with it, it won't matter if you're weaker or less skilled than your Clanmates. You'll still run rings around them. You'll drive your enemies mad and you'll gain the best of friends. Be satirical, cunning and clever and mix it in with a good bit of bewildering nonsense just to keep everyone on their toes. Make your mother regret not killing you swiftly when she had the chance."

The kit was blind. There was no way she should have been able to see Nighthawk. Yet she resolutely reared up on her hind paws and let out an imperious _meowww. _  
"Hmm," Nighthawk replied. "Not bad for a first try, I suppose. Just remember, you're better than everyone else, and make sure that they know it." Still chuckling, she picked the kit up again and continued her journey.  
It wasn't very long before she approached the LightningClan camp on silent paws. She appeared at the entrance like a ghostly shadow. As she stopped, so did the rain.  
"Intruder! Intruder!" yowled a sentry.

"You don't say?" muttered Nighthawk through a mouthful of fur.  
"How many?" came Rapidstar's deep mew.  
"One. No, two! One she-cat and a kit," the sentry amended hastily.  
"All right, then. Send them in."  
The sentry puffed up his fur importantly. "You can enter. But no funny stuff, all right? We're watching you."  
"You look like a squirrel that's fallen out of a tree," Nighthawk informed him drily as she pushed past.  
Rapidstar, a slender blue-gray tom, blinked his amber eyes at the loner. "It's Nighthawk, isn't it?"  
"Who else?" she replied grumpily, setting the kit down. The kit seemed to recognize the camp; she became more animated and began to swing her head back and forth. Immediately she picked up the scent of milk from the nursery and started wailing.

Rapidstar watched the kit. "Is she yours, Nighthawk?"  
"No. I found her on the moors, half-dead. Probably her mother was killed by something. A fox, or even a green Twoleg*. Anyway, I found that it wasn't in my generous heart to put her out of her misery, so I brought her here. You're fond of kits, aren't you, Rapidstar?"  
Rapidstar, whose lack of fertility had become a common joke among other Clans, did not respond to the taunt, although several of his warriors let out hisses. "I am indeed," he replied instead. He turned around. "Moonpelt! Come here, please. There's a sickly kit."

A svelte brown tabby she-cat stuck her head out of a small den. Her pale grey eyes widened as she noticed the kit. She disappeared and emerged again, trotting to the kit's side with a mouthful of herbs. Dropping them, she efficiently cleaned the sand from the kit's pelt with her tongue.  
The kit, a brown tabby, was not much more impressive clean than dirty, and it was clear to most cats that she would not grow into a great beauty. One of her toes on her front left paw had rotated and there was a small bend in the end of her tail. The tail might have been an injury caused by her burial but the twisted toe could only have been a birth defect. That alone might have been the reason for her abandonment, Nighthawk mused. Some mothers were not prepared to have imperfect kits, believing that they tainted bloodlines.

"The kit is ill, and deformed," Rapidstar observed mildly. "Does she have a good chance of survival?"  
Moonpelt hesitated. "It's…hard to be sure at this point. She's very weak, but overall her health is good. Her tail is broken, but that will heal without affecting her balance. The foot defect is minor and might fix itself as she grows up and her paws get larger. Even if it doesn't, there are many cats born with such problems. Most lead normal lives."  
"But not all," countered a powerfully built ginger she-cat. She had an air of authority about her that probably meant she was the deputy, but Nighthawk couldn't remember her name. The she-cat continued. "She may be a burden on the Clan. We'll struggle to feed ourselves throughout leaf-bare, let alone a sickly kit."

"One kit does not eat very much," Nighthawk mewed sharply. "She was strong enough to survive her mother's death—if that's what happened—and didn't freeze to death on the moors. I doubt she'll cause anyone to go hungry."  
"The warrior code says we must help kits in trouble," urged Moonpelt.  
Rapidstar blinked. "The warrior code says we must help _Clan _kits in trouble. It says nothing about the spawn of rogues. Still," he said, "I'm inclined to take the risk. A warrior's a warrior, and we don't have enough kits. If StarClan is against her staying, they'll find their own ways to tell us, I'm sure."  
Nighthawk dipped her head. She would not thank them—she was doing them a favour, not the other way around—but she had stirred up enough hostility in the moorland Clan for one night. As she turned to take her leave, there was a split in the natural gray roof above them. The clouds parted to reveal the odd golden colour of the sky after dusk. A single star glinted in the gap.  
"It's a message from StarClan," whispered Moonpelt. She did not elaborate on it, though her Clanmates watched her curiously. She tilted her head. "Our ancestors approve of this kit's adoption." She began to rub her herbs into the small cuts and bruises the kit had picked up.  
"There we go," mewed Rapidstar, pleased. He touched his nose to the kit's. "Very well. From this day forwards, until you have earned your apprentice name, you shall be known as Twilightkit, after the time of day that you were remade by StarClan."

Nighthawk rolled her eyes. _My work's done here, _she thought, and without saying a word to any cat she quietly slipped away.  
Rapidstar picked up the newly-named Twilightkit and carried her towards the nursery. Inside, two queens awaited; the black-and-white Fernleaf, with her two-moon-old Longkit, and the beautiful Silvertail and her much younger son, Valiantkit. Longkit was fully weaned and Fernleaf's milk had dried up, but Silvertail still had plenty.  
The silver she-cat gave the newcomer a suspicious sniff. "What is that?"

"This is Twilightkit," Rapidstar informed her. "She is joining the Clan. Will you care for her?"  
"She's deformed," Silvertail said, coldly. "And non-Clanborn."  
"StarClan has approved of this kit, and so have I." Rapidstar replied. "Are you willing to let your prejudices oppose us both?"  
Fernleaf watched the commotion with thoughtful eyes, Longkit with fascination. Valiantkit was too young to know anything but milk.  
Silvertail twitched her tail. "And if she dies?"  
"We will not hold you responsible." promised Rapidstar.  
The pale-eyed queen nosed Twilightkit without much gentleness, but the little tabby was already nursing, tail twitching slightly in satisfaction.  
Silvertail sighed. "Okay," she said finally. "I'll keep her."

***Park ranger.**


	2. The Watcher

Greetings.  
You do not know me, reader, but if you have ever owned a cat that has died, I will know you. Some call me The Forsaken Lord and others the World Breaker, but I would prefer it if you named me by the calling I was given. Time Keeper.  
I am the watcher. When a cat dies, their soul goes to the realm of my Master, his two rather more favoured servants, and me. Then, they are Judged. This Judging determines whether it is their fate to wander the glowing hills of their heavens or are doomed to be imprisoned in what mortals call, quite quaintly, the Dark Forest.

Each of us has a different task. I am the Time Keeper; I use my clock to look into the cat's past and see. If there is evil, or good, this affects the Judging…or it is supposed to.  
The Judger of the Heart and Mind is the soul-searcher. He cannot be lied to; he cannot be deceived; he cannot be persuaded. Once his decision is made, it cannot be undone.  
The Devourer of Souls is our newest addition. He guards the fabric of the Dark Forest, ensuring that they do not contact the living. In truth, he is rather incompetent—being new to his powers and responsibilities—and many of the stronger spirits can and do break through anyway.  
He hates me.

Last of all is DARK, and here I will stop, for there is no language alive with words to describe him. He is the feeling of dread that weighs on your shoulders in the dark; he is the fear and exhilaration when you see a lion slay an antelope. He is what drives the cat-queen to eat her kits; and when all hope seems lost, he appears by your side, eyes gleaming. That is DARK. Our Master.  
Not too long ago, we Judged a soul. Before they are Judged, souls come in different colours, depending on the life they have lived. (Afterwards, a soul is either black or white.)

This soul in question was gold. I have never, before or since, seen a golden soul. This one had a place among cats, a curious legend that was not so much about her than the lives she touched. So gold is a good colour for her soul, because gold on its own is rather useless, if beautiful. It is the minds of others that give gold its value. So it is here.

I have decided to tell you her story because it interested me, and I thought it was worth telling. That's the simple truth of the matter.  
I enjoy poetry, though as I am not a Creator or a mortal I cannot write any myself. There is a human poem, however, that I thought fit her story quite well. You do not have to read it, of course. In either case, greetings. I am the Time Keeper, and this is the tale of Twilightpaw.

_Like antlers, like veins of the brain the branches  
Mark patterns of mind on the red winter sky;  
"I am thought of all plants," says the Green Man,  
"I am thought of all plants," says he._

_The hungry birds harry the last berries of rowan  
But white is her bark in the darkness of rain;  
"I rise with the sap," says the Green Man,  
"I rise with the sap," says he._

_The ashes are clashing their boughs like sword-dancers,  
Their black buds are tracing wild faces in the clouds;  
"I come with the wind," says the Green Man,  
"I come with the wind," says he._

_The alders are rattling as though ready for battle.  
Guarding the grove where she waits for her lover.  
"I burn with desire," says the Green Man,  
"I burn with desire," says he._

_In and out of the yellowing wands of the willow  
The pollen-bright bees are plundering the catkins;  
"I am honey of love," says the Green Man,  
"I am honey of love," says he._

_The hedges of quick are thick with may blossom  
As the dancers advance on the leaf-covered King;  
"It's off with my head," says the Green Man,  
"It's off with my head," says he._

_The holly is flowering as hayfields are rolling  
Their gleaming long grasses like waves of the sea;  
"I shine with the sun," says the Green Man,  
"I shine with the sun," says he._

_The hazels are rocking the cups of their nuts  
As the harvesters shout when the last sheaf is cut;  
"I swim with the salmon," says the Green Man,  
"I swim with the salmon," says he._

_The aspen drops silver of leaves on earth's salver  
And the poplars shed gold on the young ivy flowerheads;  
"I have paid for your pleasure," says the Green Man,  
"I have paid for your pleasure," says he._

_The reedbeds are flanking in silence the islands  
Where meditates Wisdom as she waits and waits;  
"I have kept her secret," says the Green Man,  
"I have kept her secret," says he._

_The bark of the elder makes whistles for children  
To call to the deer as they rove over the snow.  
"I was born in the dark," says the Green Man,  
"I was born in the dark," says he._

_Anonymous_


	3. One is Sorrow, Two is Joy

**NB: This book, Firewalker, is the second in the Darkfighters trilogy. It occurs after the events of Skychasers, formally Falling Snow. You do not need to read Skychasers to understand the story here, but you may be interested in doing so anyway.  
The other point; Twilightkit, the main character, has a mental condition that is very similar to paediatric schizophrenia. I have no personal experience with this disorder, so most of my information here comes from books and the Internet. If you see anything here that you know doesn't happen to schizophrenics, I would take it as a great favour if you would PM me so I can change it.**

**Moon of the Growing Frost, 6****th**** Sun**

She was clinging to the side of an icy slope.  
_Too high, too high, _the wind laughed in her ears. _You'll fall! You're going to fall and die!  
_She struggled, desperately sinking in her claws through the crust of ice. But there was nothing underneath for her to hold onto. She slid several cat-lengths down, and unwittingly the world beneath her paws drew her eyes.  
A wave of dizziness and nausea assaulted her. The moors were so far away that they were almost invisible.  
_Too high! Get ready to fall!_

__A savage blast of wind raked its talons across her back, trying to dislodge her from the slope. She shrieked and clawed savagely at the slope. No use. She slipped further and her hind paws fell out into empty space.  
_Silly kit, _the wind laughed. _You climbed too high. You'll never survive the fall.  
_Instead of fear, anger flooded her veins, and Twilightkit suddenly let go.  
The world flashed; sky, earth, sky, earth, sky, earth, earth, earth…  
A heartbeat before her face crushed into the ground, Twilightkit woke up.

Her paws were slippery with sweat, and her pulse raced. The cool night air flowed through the mouth of the nursery den, and the moonlight shimmered. It spun shadows from the swaying leaves of the gorse bushes that sheltered her, and for a few moments she watched darkness dance across the silver walls.  
Her eyes drifted across her sleeping nursery-mates; they breathed softly and deeply, lost in dreams. Their shadows, though, were never still, and they chased each other around the nursery, batting at invisible moss balls, laughing at jokes she couldn't hear.  
The wind played with her ears. This wind was not the cruel, mocking blast of her dreams; it was gentle and kind. _Look, Twilightkit, _it said. _By the entrance._

__Twilightkit looked. A new shape formed by the mouth of the nursery den, and loped silently to her side.  
She recognized it; it was the hare she'd eaten the previous sun. Hares were very hard to catch, as they were cunning and would often disguise their scent and lay false trails to fool hunters. Only the best LightningClan warriors could catch hares, and even then it was usually more a matter of luck than skill.  
The hare was different, now, though. Instead of plain brown its fur swirled with beautiful colours of red and green, and its eyes were two shiny black stars in its head. Small white wings grew from its shoulders, and two dark growths sprouted from its head. The hare had a shadow, of course, daintily stepping by its side, and this shadow brushed its dark fur against her flank before joining the other shadows in their game.

"I had a dream," Twilightkit said quietly, so as not to disturb her nestmates.  
"Things pass," came the hare's enigmatic reply.  
"I was somewhere really high up, and the wind was laughing at me. I didn't want to die because it pushed me, so I let go. So the wind wouldn't win."  
_You cannot fight the wind, _admonished the breeze gently.  
The hare twitched his ears. "Life is not a game. Death is always a loss, whether you die due to your own actions or those of others."  
"Will I ever stop dreaming of dying?"  
"When you die—or perhaps when you start to live. I don't know." It pushed itself into her nest of moss and heather, curling up by her side. Its shadow looked up, briefly, before trotting over to lie next to its master.  
Strangely comforted by this, Twilightkit settled down to her belly and closed her eyes. This time, she did not dream at all.

Sunlight blazed through the walls of the nursery, burning her eyelids. Twilightkit winced as she stumbled to her paws. The hare neatly danced around her, avoiding her clumsy steps.  
The brown tabby she-kit checked the remaining inhabitants. Dreamcloud was still deeply asleep, her tail resting gently across her heavily swollen belly. Her kits were due any day now, although the name of her mate remained a mystery. The only other cat in the den was her own foster-brother, the sleek-pelted Valiantkit, who slept much more lightly than the pregnant queen. Briefly Twilightkit considered waking him, but he was always a grump in the morning and would not thank her. She stepped carefully over their oblivious forms and emerged into the sunlight.  
The sky was beautiful, for a leaf-bare day. It was as blue and spare as Silvertail's eyes, and just as Twilightkit had the thought she saw the queen detach herself from the throng at the fresh-kill pile. She gave her foster-kit a brief nod by way of greeting, and Twilightkit knew, with a twinge of sadness, that although Silvertail had grown to tolerate her, she would never truly be welcome in her den.

"Things pass," repeated the hare, softly.  
Twilightkit's belly informed her of more important tasks than philosophizing with an impatient growl. She joined the small queue at the fresh-kill pile. Ordinarily a warrior would quickly throw a piece of fresh-kill her way as soon as he or she noticed her, but the proud ginger deputy, Burningfur, was nearby—and she would go out of her way to make Twilightkit suffer.  
"Hello, small one," said Burningfur in her deep meow. "How are we today?"  
Twilightkit could never understand how Burningfur always managed to turn what would be from any other cat's mouth a friendly greeting into an insult. It was something to do with her mocking tone.  
She stepped up to the deputy boldly. "Do you want me to lie on my back so you can count my toes? I don't have all my teeth yet, I'm afraid. Better tell Rapidstar—that might be a sign of weakness."

Burningfur's eyes narrowed. "You are as impudent as ever, I see. A shame. I was hoping that overnight you might have gained some self-abnegation."  
"You're doing it wrong, you know."  
"Doing what?"  
"Using big words to annoy me. Silvertail tries it all the time."  
"Oh, yes," said Burningfur. "How is your _foster _mother? I do hope you don't act with your usual arrogance towards _her, _after her great kindness in _taking you in_."  
"She's just fine. Actually, though, it's Rapidstar's fault I'm still around to piss you off. The only thing Silvertail did was lie on her back and get extra food. So I really don't get the whole _owing _business. Seems to me more like Silvertail's the one who should be owing me." Twilightkit stepped forwards to pick up a mouse from the pile, only to find Burningfur's tail barring her way. "What now?" she snapped.

"When your deputy is speaking, you do not leave until she gives you permission."  
"Ah. Narrating our lives in the third person, are we? Well, Twilightkit told Burningfur that she's very hungry and not really in the mood for a lecture, so she'd like to eat now. She can eat and hear at the same time, though, if Burningfur's especially desperate for a listener."  
The ginger she-cat bared her teeth ever-so-slightly, but her voice remained bland. "Twilightkit, what do you think will happen when you grow up?"  
"I'll get bigger?"  
"No, I mean socially. By the time you'll be almost ready to become a warrior—assuming there'll be a warrior willing to take you as an apprentice, which I'm not entirely sure about—who, exactly, do you think will be in charge?"

"Enlighten me."  
"It will be me, Twilightkit. I'll be leading LightningClan then. Rapidstar is old, and on his sixth life. When you're a warrior, you can't disobey my orders. If I order you to stay in camp for the rest of your life, you'll have to do it. So…perhaps a little more respect would be in order."  
"I'll show you respect when you've earned it," spat Twilightkit.  
Burningfur opened her mouth to say something else, but a new voice interrupted her.  
"Hey, Burningfur! I bet you're psyched about Dreamcloud's new kits, huh?"  
It was Longkit, two moons older than Twilightkit and the son of two highly respected warriors within the Clan. Twilightkit might be fair game, but it was somewhat harder to bully Longkit and get away with it. He also knew her sore spots as well as Twilightkit did; everyone knew how desperate Burningfur was for kits of her own.

Faced by a two-pronged assault, the only option available was retreat. Snorting like an irritated badger, the deputy stalked away, neck fur bristling.  
Longkit slid into place beside Twilightkit. "You're welcome," he said, cheerfully.  
"Thank you, but I could have managed."  
"Oh, of course you could have, but Burningfur seemed extra bitchy today, so I thought you could use the back-up. What was all that nonsense about her being Clan leader and crushing your future, anyway?"  
"Don't know. Ambitious little rat-face—every time I think I know how bad she is, she goes off and surprises me."  
Longkit chuckled. "She isn't _that _bad. You just always manage to wind her up, that's all."  
"Hey, it takes two to start a fight."

"That's true," Longkit said, and pulled a rabbit from the pile. "Want to share?"  
It reminded Twilightkit of the beginning of their friendship. Being much older (in kit terms) than she was, they'd had very little interaction previously. One day, though, it had been time for Twilightkit to try her first solid food. She'd sauntered over to the fresh-kill pile and picked up a vole, only to have it being stolen from her jaws.  
Longkit had swallowed the vole in about four gulps. "Too slow, mutant rogue spawn," he'd said.  
She'd hit him. Hard. "Shut your stupid face, you thieving piece of rabbit droppings!"  
He'd stared at her as though she'd grown another head, more shocked by her profanity than her blow. Then he'd begun to laugh, hard, before throwing another mouse to her.

Naturally, they'd been best friends ever since. But they were very different. Longkit was extraordinarily tall for his age; not large, exactly, but long-legged and slender-framed. He could stand nose -to-nose with a cat twice his age. He was the picture of his father, Greyfire, but he had his mother Fernleaf's clever yellow eyes. He'd admitted to Twilightkit that sometimes he felt smothered by the weight of his Clan's expectations for him. He was a nephew of Rapidstar through his father and distantly related to Moonpelt, the medicine cat, by his mother's stock. He felt freer with Twilightkit, whom nobody had any expectations of other than she wouldn't live to see newleaf.  
Twilightkit looked for his shadow. It was always hardest to find them in the morning, when they were weakest, but Longkit's shadow had more power than most. There—just faintly she could make out the fine shape of its ears and head. The shadow winked at her.

The world flickered suddenly and began to glitter; Twilightkit twisted her neck in several directions to try and shake the worst of it off. The hare was nowhere to be seen, but its shadow perched in front of her, and as the sparkles danced across her eyes, she had the strangest sensation that it was trying to say something. That was not possible. Shadows did not speak.  
Abruptly, interrupting Longkit—without knowing he was even talking—she climbed to her paws and walked away, her head swirling with colours. The wind plucked at her fretfully, but she climbed back into the nursery and the reassuring darkness. The shadow of the gorse den welcomed her, brushing one edge over her neck. Twilightkit rolled in her nest, back and forth, over and under, without really knowing why.  
Something to do, she mused.

She felt the sensation that she always did when her 'moods', as Silvertail had described them, came upon her. In this, Twilightkit was actually grateful to the silver queen and her young son. If the Clan was aware of Twilightkit's periods of strangeness, they would think she was possessed by demons. They might even kill her themselves. But Silvertail had never told anyone, not even her mate, and she had sworn Valiantkit to silence. It was the only evidence that Twilightkit had that Silvertail cared about her. Valiantkit had the same proud aloofness of his mother, and few friends among the kits, so he found no difficulty in keeping her secret. In fact, as Twilightkit continued to convulse, she felt him place his paw gently on her neck.  
The sensation strengthened. Twilightkit felt as though her life was merely the dream of someone else, and she wondered vaguely if they were enjoying it. Colour and shadows flashed across her eyes.

She'd known that she was different from other kits very early on. Most kits were able to speak within their first two weeks, but Twilightkit had remained mute until she was a month old. She could now speak as well (and better than some) as any kit in her Clan, but she still clearly had the memory of rocking back and forth in this very same nest, trying to force her meow into proper words.  
And the shadows. She'd never spoken of them. And no-one had ever mentioned them to her.  
The colours stopped flashing, and she lay in her nest quietly. The feeling of powerlessness faded, and Valiantkit licked her ear gently and left her alone, padding outside.  
"You okay, Twilightkit?" mumbled Dreamcloud sleepily. "Are you sick?"  
"StarClan knows," whispered Twilightkit, but Dreamcloud did not reply.


	4. Darkness And What Drives It

**Moon of the Growing Frost, 11****th**** Sun**

Twilightkit awoke to find Silvertail's face kit-steps away from her own.  
"Hush," the silver queen whispered harshly. "Get up and come with me. If I hear a sound out of you I'll make you wish you were never born."  
The little brown tabby kit squeezed her lips shut firmly and climbed to her paws. From the feel of moonlight in the air she thought it was not too far away from dawn. Shadows tucked themselves away in corners, trying to avoid their masters' eyes.  
The hare was awake, too, his ears twitching in curiosity as his gaze flicked from cat to cat.

The nursery den was eerily silent. Aside from themselves, the only other cat in the den was Dreamcloud. Twilightkit could hear her heavy, laboured breathing and the scrape of limb against earth as she scratched at the ground. Something was wrong. She looked for the black-and-white's shadow; it too was lying helplessly on the ground. Yet there was something strange happening to its stomach—it was distended, and twitching. Feeling a sudden rush of nausea, Twilightkit followed Silvertail out into the open.

The gorse-lined hollow that made up the LightningClan camp was strangely alive for so late at night (or early in the morning?). Eyes peered out from the mouths of dens; shadows craned their necks to stare.  
The air was cold, but blessedly clear, and Twilightkit relished the feeling of clean air in her fur.  
"What's—" began Twilightkit, forgetting Silvertail's instruction, but the older she-cat let out a furious hiss, and she fell silent.  
Silvertail pushed Twilightkit with her nose into the elders' den. "Stay there, and be respectful," she growled in a slightly gentler tone. "I'll fetch you when it's over."  
Twilightkit nodded, and Silvertail headed back into the nursery. The kit watched her for a few moments before slipping into the darkness of the new den.

Inside, Longkit and Valiantkit waited. Longkit's tail was twitching in apprehension, the fur on the back of his neck bristling. By contrast, Valiantkit appeared almost bored, a mahogany blur in the silver air.  
"What's going on, Twilightkit?" whispered Longkit. "Are we under attack?"  
"I doubt it," replied Valiantkit in a normal voice. "They would have left us in the nursery if we were. It's easier to defend."  
"Use your noses, little ones," rasped a new mew. "Can't you smell anything?"  
Twilightkit breathed through the scents in the air, but couldn't pick up anything unusual.  
"Not in the den," rasped the hare, who had followed her in and was perched by her feet as always. "Put your head outside. Use the wind."

Twilightkit edged to the entrance of the elders' den and drew the air through her scent glands. This time, she picked up something else—the sharp tang of herbs, and a warmer, sweeter smell: milk.  
"Is Dreamcloud kitting?" she said as she returned, her tail lashing in excitement.  
"Very good, small one," approved the elder, Ambershade. A once-pretty ginger and white she-cat, her muzzle was silvered with age. "She is indeed; but it isn't going well, so they've called Moonpelt over to help."

Twilightkit shivered as she remembered Dreamcloud's shadow, with a twitching, swollen stomach. Were shadows born the same way cats were, then? Did they come from other shadows? Or was Dreamcloud's shadow merely mirroring her pain and discomfort, the way shadows normally did?

There was a lot to learn in the world, she thought, and pricked her ears up to return to the conversation.

"Don't they do that anyway?" asked Valiantkit.  
"Not in LightningClan—Rapidstar's old-fashioned. He believes that if a kit can't survive a normal birth without medicine cat assistance, it was against StarClan's will for it to live anyway."  
"That's stupid," sniffed Twilightkit.  
Ambershade cuffed her shoulder; not as a punishment, but more of a reminder of good manners. Twilightkit met her gaze calmly.  
"I agree," said Valiantkit smoothly. "Kits should all be given the same chances at life. And I don't think StarClan plans deaths. That would be wrong."  
Longkit, perhaps looking for a way to restore the peace, spoke up. "I've always wondered," he said, "why queens in LightningClan have such small litters. I mean, my mother only had me, and Silvertail only had Valiantkit. Is it just bad luck?"

"No, it's foolishness," sighed Ambershade. "LightningClan queens can have the same-sized litters as any other she-cat. But it's the custom, you see, for a queen to continue on with her warrior duties for as long as she possibly can. That way it 'weeds out' the weaker kits. Utter madness. But there you go. Fernleaf didn't become an official queen until seven suns before you were born, Longkit. And she's quite old for having a first litter, anyway—that may have had something to do with it, too."  
"Silvertail became a queen as soon as she knew she was pregnant," objected Valiantkit.  
"Aye, she did; in her case it really was bad luck. She had three kits, but two were stillborn. It tore something out of her heart, I think."

"She has one? That's news to me," said Longkit, but quietly, so Valiantkit didn't hear him.

There was a soft noise behind them and all four cats turned to observe the sleeping elder who had made it. Missingclaw. A stockily built grey tom—with no hind claws. He had been born in such a fashion, but it had not stopped him from becoming a decent warrior. At his extended age, he was virtually deaf, but prone to nightmares.  
"There seems to be a lot more cats born with defects now than there used to be," observed Ambershade. She glanced at Twilightkit. "No offence."  
"None taken. I'm not deformed." muttered Twilightkit, and tucked her slightly bent tail around her paws.

Ambershade looked as though she was about to reply, but she wisely held her tongue. There was movement outside the den, and all four of them jumped to their paws; but it was only Longkit's mother, Fernleaf.  
It struck Twilightkit suddenly how different Fernleaf was from the other LightningClan cats, with her battle scarred white pelt and her thin, jagged black stripes. In fact, she wasn't Clanborn at all—she had come far away, from the mountains. But although her hunting skills were average, she was a cunning and ruthless fighter, and politically gifted. She looked tired, but there was a gleam in her yellow eyes.  
"It's all right; you can come out now," she informed them. "Dreamcloud has just given birth to two healthy kits. One of them decided to come out paws-first, so it was touch and go for a while. But things are fine now."  
"Wonderful!" sighed Ambershade.

"Do they have names?" said Twilightkit softly. Fernleaf gave her a gentle glance. Although the two she-cats did not know each other well, Fernleaf had a gift for seeing into the hearts of others, and knew that Twilightkit was thinking about her own birth.  
"They are a tom and a she-kit. The tom is white with grey patches. The she-cat is blue-grey. They're called Cloudkit and Skykit, after their pelts."  
"Blue-grey?" Valiantkit asked. "Rapidstar wouldn't happen to be the father of these kits, would he?"  
"Don't be ridiculous," said Twilightkit. "Rapidstar couldn't father a litter if—" she caught Ambershade's warning glance. Fernleaf, however, appeared merely amused.  
"Come along, then," she mewed, beckoning with her tail.  
"Why were we sent here in the first place, Mother?" asked Longkit, falling into step behind her.

"In case something horrible happened to Dreamcloud, I'd guess. We wouldn't be able to cope with all the not-nice things like blood and dead babies." Twilightkit growled.  
"That's part of it," said Fernleaf mildly, "but kitting is a delicate time. It's best to have a den as empty as possible when a queen gives birth. Mothers, especially first-time ones, go into a rather delicate frame of mind when they kit, and we don't want to shock Dreamcloud into doing anything…dramatic."  
"Like eating her kits?" guessed Longkit eagerly. "I heard Missingclaw say that one time, the camp was under attack by HollowClan while a queen was kitting, and she was so determined not to let them get their paws on her litter that she—"  
"Yes, thank you, Longkit, we get the idea," said Fernleaf wearily. But now Valiantkit took up the thread.

"Oh, wow! Imagine if we actually saw Dreamcloud doing that! It would be—"  
"It would be disgusting and sick, and I think you're disgusting, too," Twilightkit snapped.  
"Lighten up a little, Twilightkit. You're almost as bad as Burningfur when it comes to kits. Speaking of which." Valiantkit pointed with his tail.  
They followed his lead to see the ginger deputy crouched in the middle of the paling darkness, her gaze fixed on the nursery. Her tail curved over her back, but she was perfectly still, one paw slightly forwards, almost as though she was hunting prey. In contrast, her shadow was not still at all; it paced back and forth, snapping at the air with ghostly teeth.

Twilightkit felt the same sense of nausea that had touched her when she'd observed Dreamcloud's shadow. Like a cat's paw had reached into her chest and tugged her heart into her stomach. Suddenly Burningfur's gaze shifted from the nursery to the three kits; ferocity burned like a flame.  
"What are you doing hanging around here?" she spat.  
"Calm down, Burningfur, I'm escorting them back to the nursery," said Fernleaf in a soothing tone of voice.

"Quickly, then." She met Twilightkit's eyes, and hissed. "And what are you looking at?"  
"I'm not sure," Twilightkit replied. "It could be a cat, or maybe it's some deranged kit-obsessed freak. It's hard to tell in the moonlight."

"Enough," growled Fernleaf, stepping between them and ushering Twilightkit on with her tail. She pushed them inside the nursery den. "Stay there, and try not to make any more trouble until morning, okay?"  
"It is morning," Longkit said pedantically.  
"You know what I mean!" She strode off.  
"Wow," said Longkit after his mother had gone. "I thought I'd seen the worst of Burningfur before, but that sets new records."  
"She wasn't like that for my birth?" asked Valiantkit.

"I'm not sure. I don't really remember, but I don't think so. She and Silvertail got on OK, so maybe that had something to do with it."  
Valiantkit looked thoughtful. "I overheard Mother talking to Father about Burningfur once. Mother said she thought that Burningfur was unstable, not a good choice for deputy, and that Rapidstar had only chosen her because he felt sorry for her. Father said that she'd had a hard life, and would get over it eventually."  
"Get over what? The permanent hairball in her throat?" growled Twilightkit moodily.

"I don't know. Mother caught me eavesdropping and cuffed me."  
"Maybe Silvertail was just jealous," Longkit suggested. Both Twilightkit and Valiantkit shook their heads.  
"She's not like that," Twilightkit said.  
Valiantkit twitched his tail. "I just get the feeling that something's not right with her. Something smells bad in her head, like an infected wound." Twilightkit gave her foster-brother a strange look, because she'd had the exact same sensation.  
"And is that notable? You're not the only cat with keen senses, little one," the hare murmured.  
_I am different, though, _she told him silently. _I have no shadow. Everyone else does. You do. Why don't I?_

__"A shadow is merely the part of your body that blocks the light. It is the darkness you shoulder. The nobler a cat is, the stronger the shadow."  
Twilightkit's head began to ache, and her body longed for bed. "Goodnight," she muttered, before pressing herself into her nest.  
"The only thing that I can smell from Burningfur is her bad attitude," remarked Longkit. "Oh—goodnight, Twilightkit. Or good morning. Anyway—" he turned back to Valiantkit, but the mahogany tom-kit had also retired to his nest without a word.

Twilightkit didn't know if she dreamed or not that night, but her visions were especially vivid.  
She saw a pulse of pure darkness flow over her, and felt the sickening heat of it scorch her fur.

_Where is it coming from? _She decided to leave her heavy body behind, and took flight, feeling the wind carry her upwards. The hare spread his white wings and joined her, drifting on the currents of air slightly beneath.  
The wind tickled her ears, and the tabby she-kit looked down at the LightningClan camp. It was beautiful in a harsh sort of way, brushed with a slight frosting of ice, and a breeze danced through the gorse brush that circled it. She found the shadows of the world quite easily, but the burning darkness she had felt was something else. She saw it, hovering like a nauseous haze, slowly sucking the life out of the LightningClan warriors.  
"Where is that coming from?" she asked the hare. He paddled his paws gently in the air current before replying in a monotone.  
"Everywhere."

She peered closer and found that he was correct. It rose like mist from the pelts of cats, it sprinkled like drifting snowflakes from the sky, and it surged as a wave from far away.  
"The kits," Twilightkit said anxiously, and stretched her neck to find their shadows.  
"Too young," the hare said. "It will take time to reach their hearts."  
Twilightkit thought about that. "So innocent creatures don't have shadows?"  
"Little one, there is no greater illusion in the world than innocence." The growths on his head suddenly swelled and became scarlet.

The sun blazed suddenly, startling them both. The hare shivered and faded in a plume of smoke. The light was agony on her night-sharpened eyes, and she covered her face with her paws and sank back to earth.  
The darkness smothered her, stinging her nose and ears, sliding down her throat to choke her to death. There was a living presence in it, and it was after her, it was going to kill her kill her kill her KILL IT!

_It's off with my head!  
It's off with my head!  
_"Get away from me!" she tried to scream, but it was inside her now, and it was seeing every thought in her head and could control every move she made.  
_I come with the…_

"The light! You move…through the light! And the kits…I'm sorry, kits! I can't—can't—can't…"

KILL. IT.

CAN'T.

CAN'T BREATHE

CAN'T THINK

"Help me!"  
_I was born in the…_

"Twilightkit, wake up!"  
…_says he.  
_"Twilightkit, please!"

And like a heavy blow to the face, she was in her den, in her nest, safe, not controlled by anything, looking up into Longkit's face, the air ripe with the scent of his fear.  
"You were screaming and thrashing and I…" he said, tail twitching with unhappiness.  
"A nightmare," Twilightkit told him, voice shaking.  
"I thought so…"  
The only other cats in the den were Dreamcloud and her two kits. Dreamcloud was watching them expressionlessly, but her shadow was bristling and its eyes were wide.  
"I'm sorry, Dreamcloud," Twilightkit said. The queen shook her head. "Go outside and get some fresh air and a drink of water. Talk to Moonpelt, maybe." Her shadow began to pace behind her.  
"I'll…I'll do that," agreed Twilightkit.


	5. Secrets In The Shadows

Twilightkit padded into the sunlight of the camp. She had slept for quite a while, and judged it to be about mid-morning based on the paleness of the shadows around her. She caught Longkit's scent behind her and turned to face him.  
"I think it's better I do this by myself," she told him. "I want to…ask Moonpelt about something, anyway."  
She continued to walk, trying not to see the hurt in his face. Unfortunately, before she could reach the medicine den, she was stopped again.

"Hello, Twilightkit. No problems, I hope?"  
It was Stormheart, an amber-eyed shaggy grey tom and Valiantkit's father. He was a decent cat, and both she and Valiantkit had decided he was an acceptable father. He played rough with them; he spoke politely; he would tell them gruesome stories; he generally did not hide truths from them. With one exception.  
Twilightkit didn't know why Silvertail, easily the most beautiful cat in the Clan, had chosen him as her mate. He was a strong warrior, but not a remarkable one, and though his face was pleasant, there were far more handsome toms. His nature was slow and meandering, with no ambitions to speak of; he would never make deputy, and he was too gentle at heart to provide unbiased council to the leader.

Love was not a concept that Twilightkit had much faith in at this point in her life, but she had never asked Silvertail for her reasoning. It was simply something she just didn't want to think about. But she had seen them together—they were a strange pair, almost like tender strangers. If Silvertail was ice, cold and enigmatic, then Stormheart was sunlight. She wondered which one Valiantkit would most resemble when he grew up.

"I just need to see Moonpelt about something," she replied to his original question.  
Stormheart seemed to sense her secrecy. He groomed a patch of fur on his shoulder. "A late night for you, I believe."  
"Yes."  
Stormheart's eyes narrowed slightly in thought as he looked down at her.  
"Twilightkit," he began, "are you OK?"  
"Yes."  
"I mean, what with Burningfur and all…that doesn't bother you?"  
"No."  
"You don't get lonely? You don't want other she-kits to play with?"  
"No."  
He twitched his tail, trying to find a way to reach the stubborn tabby.  
"Well," he said finally, "do you say your prayers to StarClan before you eat?"  
"Oh, yes."  
"And you are respectful to the elders and Rapidstar?"  
"Yes."  
Stormheart sighed. "Very well, then, you can go."

Twilightkit scampered away from him and crossed the camp to sit at the foot of the medicine den. In shape, it was rather similar to her own nursery, except for the gentle sound of trickling water inside. She knew that an underground spring flowed in the den, which was one of the reasons why the camp site was chosen in the first place. Her nose picked up the scent of herbs; she could identify a few of the very basic ones, like borage leaves and marigold, but anything beyond that was a mystery.  
Moonpelt's soft mew rang from the den.

"Hello, Twilightkit. It is Twilightkit, isn't it?"  
"Yes," she replied, feeling a trace of uncertainty. The feeling was strange to her and she didn't like it. There was a pressure building inside her head, like a thunderstorm; something inside her was very quietly telling her to walk away.  
"Come in, then. Don't stand around in the cold."

Twilightkit took a deep breath and walked in. The herbs were neatly ordered at the back of the den, but the slender medicine cat stood between her and them.  
Moonpelt was not a beautiful she-cat; she was a tabby, her pelt a few shades darker than Twilightkit's own. Her face was kindly rather than pretty, and Twilightkit had the strange thought that it was a shame this cat had chosen to walk as a healer, because she would have been a wonderful mother.

"Moonpelt," Twilightkit said, not wanting to spend more time in the den than she had to, "how do you know if something you've dreamed is from StarClan?"  
Moonpelt's gaze softened. "Did you have a dream?"  
Fury, like lightning, flashed through her blood.  
"Don't talk to me like that!" the kit spat. "Like I'm some newborn who's just had a nightmare. When I ask you something, I want you to give me a proper answer!"

The medicine cat actually took a step back from the burning anger in front of her. "All right, calm down." She sighed deeply, the air rushing through her nostrils. "You want me to talk to you like an adult? Very well. First of all, I'm not like other medicine cats."  
There was an such an odd mixture of enigma and melancholia in her voice that Twilightkit's anger faded away. She looked Moonpelt up and down. One head, one tail. Four legs. Two grey eyes, two ears.

"You don't seem any different to me."  
"Not on the outside, no. But I'm not a pure Clan cat. My grandfather came from…far away. And so I have a different connection to StarClan. Whereas other cats get dreams and omens, I interpret things like the flight of birds, the mood of the river, the path of the moon.  
"When ordinary medicine cats have dreams, usually they dream it several times over, or a warrior from StarClan speaks to them. In my dreams, I receive messages through symbols."  
"Symbols?"

"A symbol is, basically, a thing that means something else other than what it appears. For instance, a few nights ago I dreamt of a falcon soaring over a flooding river during a storm. A falcon means that there is an important goal or aspiration coming in my future. A river usually has positive connotations—peace, prosperity, fertility— but when it is flooding, the meaning is inverted; a raging river means that there is something coming that is wildly out of my control, something dangerous and filled with anger.  
"And the storm, the storm is the most powerful symbol. It represents overwhelming struggle and chaos. Shock. Loss. Catastrophe. Rapid change. Like the river, it also refers to great emotion and anger.  
"So, I dreamt last night that I will soon be given a purpose, a purpose that I cannot ignore or stand against, and that sometime in my future I will be thrown into chaos. That is how I dream, Twilightkit."

Twilightkit tilted her head and thought this over. "Moonpelt, what does a hare symbolize?"  
The medicine cat blinked. "What exactly was this hare doing?"  
"Um…just hanging around, really."  
"Well, many symbols can have more than one meaning, and that is especially true with animals. At its most basic, a hare represents swiftness, transformation, self-sacrifice—a hare will often throw itself onto a Twoleg Thunderstick to save its kits, you know. But a hare can also mean deception, as hares hide their scent trails and trick their hunters. Hares can also refer to rash behaviour and intellect without common sense—that comes from the old story about the hare racing against the snail. The hare gets so far ahead that it—"  
"Falls asleep, and lets the snail win," interrupted Twilightkit. "I know. The hare in my dream had wings, and growths on its head."

"Wings…" echoed Moonpelt. She cast Twilightkit a strange look. "Wings…they usually represent a longing for freedom. Growths? Do you mean horns? Horns represent conflict, confrontation."  
The tabby kit frowned. "So what does that mean, put together?"  
"Well, you have to work that out for yourself. No-one else can tell you. If it makes you feel better, I think your dream might just be a dream."  
"I was flying with it," Twilightkit said distantly. "We were floating above a cloud of pure darkness. It burned my fur."  
Moonpelt pricked her ears. "Darkness? Where was it coming from?"  
"Everywhere. I was trying to protect Dreamcloud's kits, but I don't think I did."  
"Ominous."

"Well, what does darkness mean?"  
"Anything. Evil. Failure. Ignorance. Death. Desperation. Depression. Insecurity. It all depends on the context of the dream and what feelings you get out of it. But seriously, I wouldn't worry. Lots of ki—cats have nightmares about the dark. Thanks for stopping by to see me. If you wouldn't mind, would you take some borage leaves back to Dreamcloud?"  
Twilightkit shifted her paws. "My dream isn't the only reason I'm here," she confessed.  
"Thought so. What is it, then?"

The tabby kit took a deep breath and decided to go for it. "Who was my mother?"  
Moonpelt kneaded the dirt at her feet.  
"I suppose I can't say I haven't been expecting this," she muttered, and looked up. "I don't know."  
"You must, though," Twilightkit said with a hint of anger.  
"But I don't. You were brought here by a rogue she-cat when you were no more than a day or so old. She offered you to us; Rapidstar accepted, named you and ordered Silvertail to care for you."  
_Offered. _Twilightkit hated the word. It made her sound like a piece of fresh-kill. At least now she understood why Silvertail harboured some resentment towards her—forced to accept a kit she didn't want.

"So this rogue was my mother, then," Twilightkit mused. "What was her name?"  
"Don't bother, Twilightkit. It won't do any good."  
Twilightkit reared up on her hind legs slightly.  
"Who are you to decide that? I already know I'm special and unique and that there's something different about me. But I have the right to know the truth about where I come from! Do you think I can't handle it? Do you think I'll throw myself in the river just because my father was a rapist or a killer?"  
Moonpelt tossed her head in irritation.

"Listen to me, kit, and listen well. Do you really think you're the first cat to want to know about their parents? Do you know how many kits, apprentices, warriors come into my den and demand information about their fathers? I will tell you exactly what I told all the others, and what I will continue to say to the ones that will come in the future.  
"You say you have a right to know your parents. That may be true; but many of those parents made a specific choice not to be involved in their kits' lives. Don't they have rights, too? Do I have the authority to force them into being mothers and fathers when they never wanted to be? It is illegal for me to abort kits and I do not argue with that law, but the flip-side is the kits such as yourself, with no cat sure of whether they carry a drop of Clan blood or if we are raising and protecting the offspring of monsters. I watched my mentor do his best to reunite broken families. The result was always, _always, _the same. Pain, pain, more pain.  
"You cannot force a cat into being a good parent. You have seen this with Silvertail; Rapidstar ordered her to take care of you, and as a result you might as well have been raised by foxes. At least you were surrounded by other she-cats, she-cats who _chose _to make an impact in your life. Do you understand me now? You think you'll know more about who you are if you know where you came from. You won't. If that she-cat is your mother—which I doubt, as she carried no milk-scent—then you will only hurt yourself." The tabby she-cat turned her back and pushed a pile of herbs towards Twilightkit. "For Dreamcloud, remember."

"Yes, I will," Twilightkit muttered. Before she picked them up, she met Moonpelt's gaze.  
"Some of what you say makes sense, I'll give you that. But you're wrong. Finding out where I come from _will _help me know who I am. Like you did. If you didn't know about your ancestors, how would you know why StarClan didn't talk to you?"  
Moonpelt did not answer, and Twilightkit guessed she had scored a point. Abruptly she changed topics.

"What causes mutations, Moonpelt?"  
The medicine cat squeezed her eyes shut.  
"You can't help yourself, can you? You have to ask the awful questions. No, I won't tell you that. If I did, there would be an uproar—but not the sort you think. The Clans will not thank either of us for telling them the truth."  
"I'll find out," Twilighkit insisted darkly. "I'll find out, and you'll be sorry for not telling me."  
"You do that and Rapidstar will banish you for good, if he doesn't just kill you. StarClan zealots are bad enough as warriors and medicine cats, but as leaders…" she trailed off. "Well, maybe it'll be your destiny to fix it. But I won't help you."

"There are more mutations than there used to be, the elders said."  
"Yes. There are. There will be more."  
"But if there's so many, what happens to them?"  
"Most die," Moonpelt said bluntly. "A mutation is a corruption of a normal feature, and most are deadly. Some die as kits, born with hearts that beat too slowly or blocked nostrils that stop their breath or twisted gullets that mean they can't drink milk. Some die later, because they aren't as strong or as quick as their Clanmates, meaning they starve to death during leaf-bare or are killed in battle. Those are your cats with rotated legs, missing tails, things wrong with their brains." Seeing Twilightkit's startled look, she said, "Oh, yes. Not all mutations are physical. Some are in the mind. I've seen cats born so stupid they can't remember their names; cats who make brilliant hunters but can barely unsheathe their claws to fight; cats who are convinced that they can see or hear things that aren't really there. Worst of all, you get evil cats who are born without conscience or mercy. Pray that none are born in your lifetime."

"Still," Twilightkit said, shaken badly, "_some _must live. Like Missingclaw."  
"Yes. Some do overcome their mutations, or even turn them to their advantage. Missingclaw—he wasn't exceptional, but he did well enough to earn his place. He also had a very thick skin to the laughter and gossip, and still does. In that, he is special. Most other mutants—though I loathe to use the term—don't. The Clan's fear and hatred seeps into them, makes them sick. They leave, even though they've got nowhere else to go, because they have to—if they stayed, they would have been poisoned by the whispers."  
"I won't leave," Twilightkit said, throwing out her chest. "I'm too amazing and special to be thrown out. The Clan will grow to like me. Eventually they might even worship me. Who knows?"  
Moonpelt's eyes glimmered. "Well, it's your choice. Good luck, then. Herbs." She walked into the depths of her den.

Twilightkit picked up the herbs and delivered them to Dreamcloud. She noted the look of suspicion and apprehension in the queen's eye.  
_This is how it starts, _she realized mildly. _The whispers. The whispers that grow while your back is turned. And eventually they suffocate you.  
Silvertail knows this. Valiantkit knows this._  
She let her paws pick their own path, and eventually they guided her to the fresh-kill pile, where Valiantkit and Longkit was eating. She was hungry, but the idea of eating made her feel ill.  
"All good with the medicine cat?" Longkit asked, with a hint of coolness to remind her that she was not forgiven for chasing him away.

"Sort of," Twilightkit replied. "We had quite the discussion."  
"About what?"  
Twilightkit tilted her head. "About the rights of cats."  
Valiantkit snorted. "Rights. They don't exist."  
"They do," Longkit argued. "Of course they do."  
"Where? I look into the trees, and the stars, and I don't find my rights there. I find them as a spoken ideal, in the voices of cats. No-one is born with rights; they are _given. _To have a right, it must be taken for granted by all parties that it _is _a right. If Rapidstar chose to deny all queens the right to get first pick of the fresh-kill pile, we would argue and maybe even fight, but until he changes his mind that right no longer exists for the queens. A right is just a fancy word for something we all think we should have, and deserve to have." His green eyes gleamed.

__Longkit shook his head. That was the difference between them; whereas Longkit was pragmatic, firmly focussed on the real world, Valiantkit was forever philosophizing and questioning. Twilightkit was somewhere between them, but she was aware that without Valiantkit's debates, they would be language-wise far more backwards than they currently were.  
"Very deep," Longkit said, "you should go join RainClan. They have a whole Clan full of cats like you."  
"My mother is half-RainClan," Valiantkit said mildly. "That may have something to do with it."  
"Funny," Twilightkit observed, "you never hear Silvertail going on about the meaning of life or anything like that."

"Forty-two," Longkit interjected.  
The foster-siblings stared at him.  
"I asked Missingclaw what the answer to life, the universe, and everything is, and he said it was forty-two."  
"That doesn't even make any sense," Twilightkit snorted.  
"It does," Valiantkit pointed out. "We just don't really know the _question _of life."  
"Well, how many questions have forty-two as answer?"

Longkit thought. "If you had forty-one rabbits in a fresh-kill pile—"  
"_Forty-one rabbits_? How the hell would you get that?" Twilightkit demanded.  
"I don't know! It's hypothetical!"  
"What would you even _do _with forty-one rabbits?"  
"Twilightkit! Anyway, there's forty-one rabbits, and a warrior puts another rabbit on the pile, so how many rabbits are there now? That fits the question!"  
Valiantkit rolled his eyes and stood up. "My guess of what the question is? How many times can you mock Longkit before it stops being funny?"  
"Forty-two times," Twilightkit muttered. The jokes between them had lightened her mood and returned her appetite, so she pulled a bird off the fresh-kill pile and began to eat.


	6. In Earnest And In Deception

**Moon of the Fading Darkness, 15****th**** Sun**

"Do you swear total and utter obedience to your Clan, leader, and mentor?"  
"I do."  
"Do you swear to learn the code and the skills of a warrior to your best ability?"  
"I do."  
"And do you swear to uphold and promote the faith in StarClan—that which gives us our might?"  
"I do."  
"Then, by the power vested in me as Clan leader, I, Rapidstar, hereby name you as LightningClan apprentice. From this day forwards you shall be known as Longpaw, and your mentor will be Phantomfall." Rapidstar touched his tail briefly to the tall tabby's shoulder.

"Longpaw! Longpaw!" the assembled Clan called. Twilightkit added her voice to theirs.  
Rapidstar waited for the noise to die down before he continued. "Phantomfall," he said to a very dark brown tom, "you have shown loyalty and honour. Pass on all you can to this young apprentice."  
"Naturally, Rapidstar," Phantomfall replied in a deep mew. They stepped off the Lightningridge—a small rise on the western side of the camp—and the crowd began to disperse.  
Twilightkit padded to her friend's side. "Good luck," she told him, touching her nose to his shoulder.  
"It won't be long before you're training with me," Longpaw answered. His yellow eyes sparkled as he tried unsuccessfully to hide a gleam of excitement. "So, what are we doing first?" he asked Phantomfall in what must have seemed to him a very grown-up voice.

"Me? I'm going to have breakfast and take a nap in the sun." replied Phantomfall, with perfect seriousness.  
"…Okay, but what do I have to do?"  
"What do you want to do?"  
"Aren't you supposed to tell me?"  
"Am I?"  
"Well, I don't know what I'm meant to do."  
"If you don't even know, how am I supposed to know? Am I a mind reader or a medicine cat?" The dark brown cat chuckled and sauntered off, calling over his shoulder, "Come find me when you do know."

Longpaw blinked several times. "Is he joking? He must be joking."  
"_He__í_,Tall Tom," said one of the other apprentices—Crimsonpaw, a pale ginger she-cat with patches of darker red fur on her flanks. "You're unlucky, getting one of the oldies. Half the time you're practically training yourself. I've got the same, with Flywing over there." She nodded to a iron-grey she-cat grooming herself.  
"What exactly am I supposed to do?" said Longpaw with a rising note of panic.  
Crimsonpaw waved her tail. "Calm down, or your fur will fall out. Phantomfall's springing a test on you, seeing how your mind works. What you do now depends on how he'll train you. If you're the kind of cat that just sits around blank-faced when he hasn't been given instructions, he'll lose hope in you and treat you like an idiot."

"Did your mentor do this to you?" Twilightkit asked, curious.  
Crimsonpaw nodded grimly. "I've been trying to live it down ever since."  
"What did you—no, don't tell me," Longpaw said. He furrowed his brow.  
"Well," he said with a sigh, "if he really isn't going to make me do anything, I'm going to go set up my nest in the apprentices' den." He took a few steps towards the shrub that formed it, then turned back. "Or do you think I should go help the elders or something?"  
Twilightkit wrinkled her nose. "That makes you sound like a suck-up."  
"True. OK, I'll see you around." He headed off.

"Bye," she called after him, and he waved his tail in farewell. With a sigh, she sat down and tucked her tail around his paws.  
"You're looking very sorry for yourself," Valiantkit said, stepping up to her. Twilightkit flinched—how did he get so close without her hearing him?—and sighed.  
"It's going to be boring without him," she muttered.  
"I would be offended, if I cared enough," Valiantkit snickered. "We'll find some way to occupy ourselves. Besides, it won't be long before we're apprentices too."

"Oh, yeah. Two moons. Half my life so far."  
Her mahogany foster-brother sat down and drew a paw over his ear. "Don't snap at me, OK? Did you really think that we would all be kits in the nursery forever? Anyway, it's not like you'll never see him again until we're apprentices." His shadow twitched its ears in minor reproach.  
"I know, I know," Twilightkit replied. She stood up. "I'm going to go see Skykit and Cloudkit. Are you coming?"

"No," Valiantkit replied. "But if Mother asks where I am, can you tell her I'm making dirt?"  
"Um. Why?"  
"Don't worry about it."  
"You're up to something?"  
"I said, don't worry about it."  
"I'm not. But you can tell me anyway, right?"  
"You see," Valiantkit sighed, "when I said, don't worry about it, what I was actually trying to say politely is that it's not your business."  
Twilightkit thought this over. "Will you tell me what you're doing later?"  
"Sure."  
"Well, all right then. But Silvertail's never asked me where you were before."  
"She will this time," Valiantkit said with contented gloom. "I can feel it." He ambled away. Shaking her head, Twilightkit began to walk back to the nursery.

She was interrupted by a shadow that fell across her face. She twitched in surprise as she recognized it. Shortly afterwards, the hare loped to her side.  
"You're back." She hadn't seen it ever since her dream of darkness smothering the kits.  
"I am," it replied, giving nothing away. "You shouldn't have gone to the medicine den."  
"I had to. I had to find things out. When I'm an apprentice, I'll figure out what they're all so scared of. Even if I get myself exiled from this stupid Clan."  
"And what will you do then?" inquired the hare, angling its short ears towards her.  
"Find my mother," she responded promptly.  
"Oh, yes. I forgot you knew who she is, where she is, and that she's willing to see you again."  
Twilightkit snorted. "You sound like Moonpelt. _They have the right to abandon their kits!_" She mimicked the tabby's voice. "I'm with Valiantkit. There's no such thing as rights."  
"There's no such thing as good or evil, then, either. All originate from the same source." The hare stiffened. "Watch out."

Twilightkit was about to ask why when a sudden rush of fur nearly knocked her off her paws.  
"Oi!" she snapped. "Watch where you're going!"  
Cloudkit skidded to a halt, turned a head-over-heels somersault, and lay cheerfully on his back. His shadow, recently formed, was rushing back and forth like a startled rabbit.  
"Hi, Twilightkit!" he panted. "I'm practising my ambush! I got you, didn't you see?"  
"Well, let's see. I'm the one still on my paws, and you're the one with your head in the dirt. Yes, I can see why you might think that a victory."

Cloudkit looked abashed, and Twilightkit felt a prickle of shame. Cloudkit and Skykit were hurt by her sarcasm, and didn't laugh the way Valiantkit and Longpaw would have. They were naïve and so easy to make fun of that sometimes she couldn't help it.  
"Though boys throw stones at frogs in sport, the frogs do not die in sport, but in earnest," the hare remarked quietly.  
Twilightkit squared her shoulders. "What game do you want to play, Cloudkit?"  
"I want to play medicine cat!" squeaked a new voice from the den. Skykit.  
"That game's so boring," Cloudkit muttered, getting to his paws. "All I ever do is lie around and be hurt!"  
"But you don't want to be the medicine cat, so what else can you do?"  
Twilightkit was about to suggest a game that pleased both parties, like tag, or hide-and-seek, when Silvertail appeared behind her.

"Twilightkit, where is your brother?" she asked.  
"Dirtplace," the tabby kit replied instantly.  
"Is that where he is, or what he told you to say?"  
_Damn. _"Both, I'd say. Is he in trouble?"  
"He will be soon, if he's doing what I think he is." The lovely she-cat stalked away, fur glittering.  
"Your mother's scary," Cloudkit whispered.

"She isn't my mother," Twilightkit corrected absent-mindedly. _Valiantkit, what are you up to?  
_"Well, anyway, I want to play battles."  
Skykit wrinkled her nose. "I hate that game. I hate fighting."  
"Hate fighting?" Cloudkit asked, as bewildered as if his sister had suggested the sky was green.  
_Is this what brothers and sisters are usually like? Thank StarClan I don't have any, then, _Twilightkit told herself. "_I'll _play battles with you, Cloudkit. What Clan do you want to be?"  
"I want to be HollowClan, and you can be SnowClan. Skykit, you can be the kits I steal."  
The hare let out a growl of warning, and Twilightkit felt a prickle of apprehension trail down her spine. "Perhaps another battle," she suggested, but Cloudkit was adamant. He reared up on his hind legs briefly and fluffed out his fur.

"Ha! I'm Clawstar! Bow down before me, Brightstar, and watch as I take your kits and destroy your Clan!"  
"Tell that kit to be quiet," the hare hissed.  
Twilightkit opened her mouth to relay the message, but Cloudkit had already sprung. He was a big kit, and not that much younger than her; she struggled to keep her feet. Skykit was obediently pretending to be a terrified SnowClan kit, though a glimmer of anxiety in her eyes showed that she had some awareness of the situation.  
Cloudkit batted at Twilightkit's face, hard enough to sting. "Take that, Brightstar! And that! And that!" His loud mews were beginning to attract Clan attention; the warriors in camp were heading their way.

"Burningfur and Rapidstar are coming over," the hare informed her, ears twitching.  
The last thing she wanted was to tangle with the venomous deputy in front of Rapidstar. Twilightkit pushed Cloudkit away from her, but he assumed it was part of the game, and jumped at her again. "Give me your kits, Brightstar! I am Clawstar, the greatest cat in the forest!"  
"Cloudkit, stop," she whispered, but before she could elaborate Rapidstar's angry snarl cut across them.  
"What on StarClan's green earth are you kits playing at?"

Skykit's ears flattened; she tried to scramble away, but her mother, who had emerged from the den, pinned her hindquarters down with a paw. She observed Cloudkit and Twilightkit with a grim curve to her lips.  
Twilightkit decided to opt for diplomacy. "It was just a game, Rapidstar," she said, lowering her head in submission. "They didn't know any better."  
"Then why didn't you stop them?"  
"I tried. The game had only just started."

Burningfur snorted and began to pace behind the blue-grey leader, tail twitching.  
Rapidstar stalked over to Cloudkit and used a paw to force the kit to meet his eyes.  
"Listen to me, kit, and listen well. When it comes to _that _battle, we do not play games. We do not make fun. A whole Clan was destroyed. Innocent kits, just like yourself, and their mothers, and their fathers, and their medicine cat, were murdered. Torn to pieces. There are rumours that say Clawstar and his warriors ate their hearts. After _that _battle, all the streams and rivers ran red with SnowClan blood, and their territory is stained scarlet still. After _that _battle, there was chaos and terror. Many believed that the warrior code was lost forever, or that Clawstar was going to destroy us all, or that StarClan had turned their backs on us." Rage burned in his amber gaze at the thought of such heresy. "It was moons—_moons—_before anything resembling order returned. Even now, RainClan and HollowClan are arguing over who should take the remains of SnowClan territory—an argument that could soon become a war. Do you understand, kit? This is nothing—_nothing—_to play at. You just give your thanks to StarClan that you weren't even born when it happened."

Cloudkit was crying in the tearless way of cats, making small sobbing sounds in his throat. Skykit had pressed her face into the cold earth. Their shadows were hunched together, trying to be as small as possible, whereas Rapidstar's shadow seemed twice its usual size, swollen with fury.  
The hare crawled silently to Twilightkit's side. "He is afraid. He thinks that StarClan will punish the kits for their lack of respect to the dead."  
Behind the wall of warriors, Twilightkit saw Valiantkit slip out of the warriors' den, and through the camp entrance, carrying something in his mouth.  
Dreamcloud gathered Cloudkit to her body with her tail. "I think my kits understand that now, don't they?"

The little ones mewed their assent.  
"See that it doesn't happen again," snapped Rapidstar, and began to walk away with Burningfur. Since he was heading past the camp entrance, where Valiantkit had disappeared, Twilightkit trailed after them.  
She was close enough to hear their conversation.  
Said Burningfur, "If you wanted to scare them, you could have just beaten them senseless."  
"Cats forget pain, especially when they are small. Words last longer."  
Burningfur made a noise that meant she disagreed, but would not say so. "We don't gain very much from giving them nightmares."

"They're kits. One is going to end up as a medicine cat anyway, so she might as well get used to them."  
"You think that Moonpelt will agree to one, then?"  
Rapidstar's voice hardened. "Even if the kit had no talent for healing at all, I would still have made Moonpelt take her. An apprentice might keep her busy for a while."  
The deputy twitched her tail. "You don't know for sure that she's behind it."  
"But I do, Burningfur. I do. And I can't have that kind of sedition spread in my Clan. At least her obsession with Silvertail's kits made her seem unreliable." Burningfur growled slightly, and Rapidstar inclined his head. "You still think she's Twilightkit's mother, then?"  
"It would explain much," Burningfur said softly.

"Much—but not all. I find it hard to believe that Moonpelt would attempt to murder her own kit. And how could she have kept a secret like that for so long?"  
"There are many things in this world that are difficult to hide," the ginger she-cat said, so quietly and with such simple sadness that Twilightkit had to strain her ears to hear, "but a secret is not one of them."  
Rapidstar did not reply, and he vanished into the leader's den. Burningfur stood still for a while, and then turned to look Twilightkit in the face.

Twilightkit flattened her ears and tried to look defiant, but the she-cat did not seem angry. She merely said, "Be cautious, small one. Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets."  
Twilightkit raised her chin. "Who was the she-cat that brought me here?"  
"When I like a cat, I make a point of never telling their names to anyone, as it seems to me that a name is a sort of secret—a part of who you are, and most cats, if not all cats, don't like others knowing who they are."  
"You use my name."

"Yours is not the name your mother gave you. And I don't like you." The deputy padded away.  
Twilightkit mulled this over briefly before beginning the walk back to the nursery. She was accosted by Valiantkit along the way.  
"Hi," she said. "What were you up to?"  
Valiantkit's eyes gleamed. "Well might you ask. I saved you a bit." He trotted to a small stone and beckoned her with his tail.  
Twilightkit drew alongside him. "If it's catmint, I don't want any." She was crazy enough as it was.  
"Better than catmint. Well, no, that's a lie, but it's still great." He lifted up the stone.

Underneath was a small patch of fur. Giving Valiantkit a bewildered glance, Twilightkit bent to sniff it. Burningfur's scent overlay the hairs, but she made out the faint odour of a tomcat. There was a queerness to the smell, a sense of indulgent opulence.  
"Whose fur is that?" she asked. Valiantkit shrugged.  
"Don't know. More importantly, why does Burningfur keep a clump of his fur in her nest?"  
Twilightkit gasped. "You went into the warriors' den and stole it?

"I put it back. Minus this bit, of course."  
"Burningfur will find your scent, and then we'll be in for it!"  
"No, she won't. I rolled in Moonpelt's herbs before I went in."  
"Then she'll blame Moonpelt—which might even be worse!"  
"The fur's still there, so she's got no hard evidence that anyone even saw it. Moonpelt goes into the warriors' den all the time. Trust me, nothing will happen."  
Twilightkit eyed him balefully. "You'd better be right. I don't want to wait any longer to become an apprentice than I must. It's my one way of getting out of here."  
"Oh, yes," the hare muttered grimly.


	7. Almost Not Kits

**NB: For those of you who are getting a little confused with the names, an allegiance of LightningClan and their respective mutations are on my profile page, at the bottom.  
Also I won't be updating this story from 17****th**** November to 16****th**** December as I will be in Borneo.  
Some of you asked for longer chapters—hope you like this one!**

**Moon of the Scented Hills, 4****th**** Sun**

Valiantkit was shoving her, and not gently. "C'mon, little sister, wake up."  
Twilightkit groaned and shielded her eyes from the sudden sunlight. "Go away."  
"Not a chance. Today's the day we become apprentices."  
The tabby kit sat up, all sleepiness suddenly gone. "You know that for sure?"  
Valiantkit paused, a slight smirk easing over his muzzle. Twilightkit resisted the urge to grab him by the scruff and shake him like a rat. "Tell me!"  
"All right, all right, calm your fur. I heard Silvertail telling Rapidstar a little while ago that we were too big for the nursery, and that we were both old enough to become apprentices. Rapidstar agreed and said he would hold the ceremony today, as soon as he's spoken with our new mentors."

"About time, too," growled Dreamcloud, who was grooming her kits. "I'll be looking forwards to some peace and quiet!"  
"Yes, Dreamcloud, because your own kits are perfect little robins who never make any noise whatsoever," Twilightkit snapped back.  
She heard the queen's teeth grind. "At least my kits aren't—"  
Silvertail pushed her head into the den, silencing the black-and-white she-cat.

"You're awake at last." the silver tabby said. "Have something to eat and try to make yourselves look slightly presentable. Your apprentice ceremony will begin as soon as the noon patrol returns." She glanced at Dreamcloud. "And you might want to have Moonpelt check on Skykit's eyes. She seems short-sighted to me."  
"My kit is not a blasted mutant!" Dreamcloud snarled. Twilightkit had noticed that Dreamcloud's hatred of deformities was second only to Burningfur's. The queen had heterochromia—one of her eyes was blue, the other was green—and she was constantly being mistaken for a mutant, even though heterochromia was proven to be a common feature in her bloodline.

Silvertail ignored the outburst. "Nevertheless." She looked back at her kits, tail twitching. They took the hint and left the den.  
"StarClan bless it," Valiantkit said as he led the way to the fresh-kill pile, "that she-cat gets more bad tempered with each passing day." Twilightkit supposed he was referring to Dreamcloud, though the comment might be equally applicable to Silvertail.  
"She's not the only one," Twilightkit replied through a mouthful of rabbit. "Even Rapidstar is starting to catch the disease."  
"Of hating mutants?" Valiantkit arched an eyebrow. "Oh, Rapidstar's always hated them. He just hides it better than most. They're cursed by StarClan, after all."

Twilightkit frowned. "Really? Why'd he let me into the Clan, then?"  
"He's not stupid. An extra warrior is an extra warrior, mutant or not. But he's a zealot. Mother told me he used to be a medicine cat apprentice, but then Moonpelt—or Moonpaw, as she was then—shredded the muscle in her shoulder and had to take his place."  
"Moonpelt wasn't originally going to be a medicine cat?"  
"Didn't I just say so? She probably always wanted to be, but she has outsider blood, so no cat would make her a medicine apprentice. But by the time her shoulder had healed, she was so far behind the other warrior apprentices that there was no point in her returning to them."  
Twilightkit tried to imagine this. "I bet Rapidstar was thrilled."

Valiantkit shrugged his shoulders. "He might have resented it initially, but he doesn't now. He claims that it was the will of StarClan that he became a warrior, so he could lead us when the time came." He snorted. "I'd be rejoicing in my good fortune too, if I were offered leadership on the back of a golden hare."  
The hare next to Twilightkit twitched his ears, and Twilightkit decided not to ask her brother to elaborate. Burningfur was right about one thing, she realized with a twinge. Secrets did make you lonely.

"Valiantkit," she began, "can I talk to you about something?"  
"Well, you sort of just did, but go ahead."  
She scraped her paw through the earth. Finally, she said, "I think Moonpelt might be my mother."  
"You're wrong," he said with such certainty that she sat up.  
"And how the hell, may I ask, are you so sure?"  
"Because I am," he said smugly. "Trust me. She isn't." She continued to glare at him, and he sighed. "OK. First of all, she's a medicine cat—"  
"That proves nothing—in fact, it's a good reason for her to ditch me!"  
"I know it doesn't rule her out entirely, I'm just reminding you. Medicine cats don't have kits. They spend their whole apprenticeships learning about all the awful things that happened to she-cats who had them—"  
"How do you know that?"  
"I _listen, _Twilightkit. Have you got all your interruptions out of your system?"  
Her mouth tightened, but she gestured at him to continue.

"Secondly—nobody ever realized she was pregnant. And that's a hard thing to hide, especially for LightningClan cats, because we're all so slender. Thirdly, she's never produced any milk. I know there are herbs that can stop that from happening, but still. Fourthly—she almost never leaves camp, meaning that her mate has to be a LightningClan warrior, which is really unlikely. Finally—can you really tell me that you think she's capable of killing a kit? Of killing her _own _kit?"  
"No," Twilightkit admitted, looking downcast. "Damn."  
"What put the idea in your head, anyway?"  
"It was…it was something Burningfur said."  
"Since when did you start believing what that bitchy lump of fur tells you?"  
Twilightkit sighed. "She wasn't saying it to me. And the things she said…like how interested she is in me, and all that…it made sense."  
Valiantkit took a bite of the rabbit and chewed thoughtfully. "There could be other reasons for that."  
"Like what?"

Valiantkit shrugged, and the two almost-not-kits spent the remaining time until noon finishing the rabbit and sharing tongues, thinking about what those other reasons might be.  
The camp seemed to awaken with the arrival of the noon patrol, smelling of flowers and borders. Longpaw was among them, and he waved his tail at them in greeting. Twilightkit found a smile for him, but Valiantkit ignored the gesture and padded to sit by the Lightningridge.

She noticed that as her mahogany foster-brother grew older, the line he drew between self-assuredness and arrogance was growing less clear. He was becoming a remarkably handsome young tom, with his deep, unusual fur colour and his strong frame. She glanced at her two friends again. There were other differences, too. Longpaw was continuing to shoot upwards, but his body had yet to fill outwards—he was willowy, and slender as a beech trunk. She didn't have much of an idea of what she herself looked like, but from looking at her legs and hindquarters she guessed herself to be stocky and strongly built. That suited her fine. She was never going to be beautiful, anyway, so she could do with the extra power that a deep chest and powerful rump would give her. Valiantkit was big for his age, too, but he was muscular and lithe.

She wondered if his mother's lack of care hurt him. Silvertail wasn't as openly dismissive to him as she was to Twilightkit, but there were still times when she looked through him as though he didn't exist. Did Silvertail love Valiantkit? Did the ice-hearted tabby love anyone? As a kit, had she ever chased snowflakes for the pure joy of it, or had she merely been a smaller copy of her current self? Twilightkit would never know.  
"Because you don't want to," the hare said quietly. "Because you're afraid that if you figure out why she behaves as she does, you'll figure out how you work. And you don't want that."

"Are you real?" she asked the hare tentatively.  
It tilted its head sharply, as though the question caused it pain. "Rapidstar is looking at you. I think he expects you to go to him."  
Twilightkit followed its gaze, and sure enough, the blue-grey tom was watching her. His gaze was mild, but his shadow was more expressive. It paced in a circle around him, shooting her glances of blatant mistrust.  
"Do not do anything that you'll regret," the hare advised softly. "He…he is different. His shadow is…different."  
The tabby she-kit frowned. Rapidstar didn't seem all that different to her. He was misguided in some of his views, perhaps, and a little too religious for her cynical tastes, but overall she thought he was a decent enough cat with a short temper. Basically in the same mould as any normal warrior.  
Silently she padded over to his side and tried to stand as tall as she could. Her head just barely reached the bottom of his shoulder.

"Little one," the tom said, "Is your heart strong?"  
_I wouldn't know. I've never checked, _she wanted to reply, but a warning growl from the hare stopped her.  
"Yes." She couldn't go far wrong with a one-word answer.  
"Very well. Sit at the top of the Lightningridge. I will join you shortly." He stepped away from her and headed towards Burningfur, who had returned with the noon patrol. Twilightkit strained her ears to listen, but Burningfur's eyes slid across to meet hers and she promptly lowered her voice. With a sigh, Twilightkit joined Valiantkit on the Lightningridge.

"I wonder which mentor I'll get," her foster-brother hissed. "I hope it's Lilacbreeze."  
"She's a little old for you, don't you think?" Twilightkit replied dryly. Lilacbreeze was Crimsonpaw and Wolfpaw's mother, a lovely hazel-eyed tabby.  
"She's the only good-looking she-cat in this Clan apart from Silvertail and Burningfur. Silvertail's my mother and Burningfur is..."  
"A bitch," supplied Twilightkit.  
"Yes, precisely, so one must make sacrifices."  
"I don't know," Longpaw called as he sat underneath the Lightningridge. "Crimsonpaw looks like she might turn into something nice. Mother's blood and all that."  
"Dibs," Valiantkit said instantly.

"I noticed her first," Longpaw shot back.  
Twilightkit rolled her eyes. "I am not part of this discussion, I am not part of this discussion, I am…"  
"What about you, Twilightkit? Any good-looking toms you like?" Longpaw said. Twilightkit contemplated biting his ears off, then realized that she wasn't tall enough to manage it.  
"Yeah, Longpaw. You."  
He looked bewildered. She pressed her advantage.  
"You're so handsome, you make the birds faint and fall out of the trees when you stroll past. All those flowers that are blooming right now? They're doing it for you, mate. I can't wait to see you in battle, 'cause the other warriors will be so blown away by your stunning good looks that they'll go blind. That's how attractive you are to me, Longpaw."

Longpaw's expression grew even more confused. "Um. Are you joking?"  
"Of course I'm joking, you idiot! StarClan, if your head spontaneously caught flame and I had to stomp on your face to put it out, it would be an improvement."  
Valiantkit burst into laughter. "Do you want some honey for those burns, Longpaw?"  
"Valiantkit, I swear to StarClan, every time I talk to you I can feel my personality turning a dull shade of grey. Being around you is like infecting my soul with greencough. When I hear your voice—"  
"Yes, if we're done insulting each other, I'd like to make these two into apprentices," Rapidstar said, almost directly into Twilightkit's ear.

"Flying hedgehogs! Do you have to sneak up behind me and whisper creepily into my ear like that?" Twilightkit yelped.  
"Have to? No. Like to? Perhaps," her leader said without any trace of humour in his voice. He pushed past her and raised his head. "May all cats that are old enough to run the moor gather beneath the Lightningridge for an initiation ceremony."  
As the cats gathered beneath the ridge, Twilightkit wondered who her mentor might be. She had a sneaking hope for Longpaw's father, Greyfire, because he was a strong warrior and had a soft spot for her. Then again, it might be worthwhile to get Lilacbreeze just to see the expression on Valiantkit's face.

Rapidstar began to speak.  
"The Clan depends on the cats of the future for its survival. Without little ones to teach, train, and show, we would be purposeless. We would have nothing to fight for except survival. The training of the apprentice is one of our most sacred tasks, for it is our duty to teach them the laws of StarClan and the nuances of the warrior code." He paused, and used his tail to tilt their heads up to meet his.  
"Valiantkit, Twilightkit, son and daughter of Silvertail, do you swear total and utter obedience to your Clan, leader, and mentor?"  
"I do," Twilightkit replied. _Of course not, _she said in her head.  
"I do," Valiantkit echoed.  
"Do you swear to learn the warrior code, and the skills of a warrior, to your best ability?"  
"I do."  
"I do."  
"And do you swear to uphold and promote the faith in StarClan—that which gives us our might?"  
The two young cats swore they would.

"Then, by the power vested in me as Clan leader, I, Rapidstar, hereby name you as LightningClan apprentices. From this day forwards, you shall be known as Valiantpaw and Twilightpaw. Bring honour to your Clan, young ones—whether you were born here or not."  
Twilightpaw fought back a hiss as the Clan called out their congratulations. It didn't seem to matter to the stupid Clan cats that she could not have been more than a day or two old when she was brought to their nursery, too young to remember anything. No, those brief hours she had not spent in their silly camp would work against her for the rest of her life.

Her gaze landed on Moonpelt, who gave her a little nod in return, and her thoughts returned to mutants and her mother. She missed the first few words of Rapidstar's speech.  
"…and so, the relationship between mentor and apprentice is one of the most sacred bonds that can be forged. Yet we must also remember that mentors are not supposed to be their apprentices' friends. They are chosen to test them, guide them, and find the strength in their progenies that they may not have even known existed." He paused. "Valiantpaw, your mentor will be Greyfire."  
_Damn, _Twilightpaw thought to herself. She just hoped that Greyfire would be up to sparring words with her foster-brother.  
"Greyfire, you have shown strength and intelligence. Pass on your considerable talents to this young apprentice."  
"Of course I will," Greyfire agreed, padding to Valiantpaw's side. Valiantpaw shot him a doubtful glance.

Rapidstar nodded several times, then took a deep breath. He seemed to be steeling himself for something.  
"Twilightpaw," he told her, "it was difficult for me to select a mentor for you, as your personality makes you incompatible with most."  
Twilightpaw ground her back teeth together.  
"However, there is a cat in the Clan that I think you will do extremely well with. This warrior will guide you onto the correct path and demand more from you than any other." He seemed to hesitate briefly and brace himself. "Twilightpaw, your mentor will be Burningfur."

"_What?" _she exploded, unable to keep the sound in her throat.  
Rapidstar closed his eyes and spoke in a patient tone. "You heard me, Twilightpaw."  
"I'm sorry, sir, but you're joking. You have to be joking."  
Burningfur's deep voice echoed from over the heads of shocked cats. "I'm not happy about it either, apprentice, so suck it up."  
"I'm not learning from her," Twilightpaw said bluntly. "I hate her. She hates me. You can't make me."

Rapidstar opened his eyes and leaned in towards her. "You refuse? Do you remember the oath you just swore? _Total obedience. _If you break that oath, I will have no choice to remove your apprentice name. Or worse still, exile you."  
"This is blackmail!" Twilightpaw spat bitterly.  
He leaned in further still, and dropped his voice so that only she could hear him.  
"Twilightpaw, listen to me, and listen well, because I'll only say this once. You are a brave young cat, clever and strong. But you _have no sense. _You make enemies exactly where it will do you most harm. Burningfur will be leader of this Clan one day, and unless you mend your ways, you will suffer greatly or be forced to leave. Is that what you want?"

"I'm a _kit!_ Since when is it my responsibility to plan my future since the day I was born?"  
"You're not a kit now, little one. And if you were an ordinary, silly kit, I would agree with you. But you aren't. You are a natural leader—in fact, all three of you have the potential to be great warriors, and perhaps deputies." His lip curled ever-so-slightly as he said this. "You can't have it both ways. Either you are a normal kit, and I should put you with a boring mentor who will teach you how to hunt and fight and nothing else, or you are extraordinary, and I will give you to the best warrior in the Clan. Are you normal, Twilightpaw?"  
"Yes," the hare said softly.

"No," she told Rapidstar. She sighed. "Fine. I'll…be her apprentice. For now. But if she screws me over in any way—"  
"I will deal with her," the Clan leader promised. He took several steps back and raised his voice. "Burningfur, you are a cat of rare honour and skill. I place this young apprentice into your very capable paws."  
Burningfur said nothing, merely beckoning to Twilightpaw with her tail. The young apprentice jumped down from the Lightningridge to join her.  
The ginger deputy examined her for a few moments in silence, ears twitching. Finally, she sighed.  
"All right. This is how it will be. Speak when you're spoken to. Do as I say, when I say it. Don't annoy me. Follow those rules, and this should be bearable for both of us. Understand?"  
"Yes." Twilightpaw said through gritted teeth.  
"Yes, what?"  
"Yes."  
Burningfur rolled her eyes slightly. "Then let's begin."


	8. The Border Tree

**Moon of the Scented Hills, 4****th**** Sun**

Burningfur led her to the entrance of camp, where Valiantpaw and Greyfire were waiting.  
"Ah, Burningfur," Greyfire said, carefully choosing his words. "I was going to show Valiantpaw the best places for moss. He can clean out the elders' den, and then I'll take him out on the evening patrol so he can get a feel for the boundaries."  
"Sounds like you've got everything well in paw," Burningfur said in a deceptively mild tone.  
"Yes, well, I was wondering if you'd like me to take Twilightpaw for the day as well? You've been hunting this morning and you took the noon patrol. You could do with a break."

Listening, Twilightpaw frowned. She'd never realized how hard Burningfur worked. The ginger deputy had always seemed to be skulking around the camp during her kithood.  
"Thank you for your concern, but Twilightpaw is my apprentice and I would prefer to take her out myself." Burningfur replied.  
Greyfire hesitated. "Are you sure?"  
The she-cat stood slightly taller. "Very sure. You can go."  
Greyfire shrugged, and he gathered Valiantpaw to him with his tail. He flashed Twilightpaw an expression that said, _I tried. _She gave him a small grin, grateful to him for making an attempt.

Burningfur steered Twilightpaw away from her brother, taking her out of the small copse of scrub that marked their campsite. Outside of them, the wind was ferocious, blasting her fur and bringing a torrent of scents to her glands. At first she tensed, wondering if the gusts were kin to the one in her dreams, but there was no malice in the air currents; only the wild joy of pure movement.  
The wind's happiness was strangely infectious and as it raked the moor, Twilightpaw felt her heart beat faster. She knew, in an instant, that she belonged here and nowhere else, out in the free spaces and open air. Burningfur faded from her thoughts as she giggled and broke into a gallop, faster than she'd ever run before, feeling the wind roar in her ears and the pleasant burn of her muscles as she raced away from the ginger she-cat.

At last she slowed when her breath became painful in her throat and her legs began to tremble. She skidded to a halt in a small dip in the ground. All around her, the moor was becoming alive with flowers and scented grass—this was the Moon of the Scented Hills, after all. The world was brightening, and she rolled around in the grass like a playful kit while the hare nibbled on some stems. He looked more cheerful than she'd ever seen him, though hare expressions were naturally hard to read.  
Eventually, the bubbling joy faded away, and she wondered where Burningfur had got to. Twilightpaw wasn't very fit, and she knew she couldn't have run that far. Burningfur would easily be able to follow her scent and catch up. So where was she?  
The brown tabby climbed to the lip of the depression and looked around. No sign. She inhaled in the wind, but couldn't catch the deputy's scent.

"Damn," she said quietly, too proud to call out for her mentor. Her legs began to protest as she began the seemingly long and painful journey back up her own scent trail. She ignored the scenery that had been so beautiful to her only minutes before.  
She found Burningfur sitting exactly where she had been when Twilightpaw had ran away, licking a paw and drawing it over her ear.  
"I hope you've cured your newleaf fever," the deputy said. "I was planning on getting some training done by sundown."

If anyone else had said that, it would have been a joke. Burningfur's face, however, was about as amused as a dead carcass.  
"And don't even think I'll go easy on you just because you were stupid enough to wear yourself out, either."  
Twilightpaw bit back an insult that would have seen her warrior ceremony delayed for a year. "So, then, where are we going? To see the borders?"  
"One border," Burningfur said indifferently. "You can see the others if you wish to join Greyfire on his patrol. Though I doubt you'll have the energy."  
Twilightpaw instantly decided to go on the evening patrol, even if they had to carry her by the scruff.  
"Which border?" she asked. Burningfur ignored her and set off.

As she had promised, she did not slow her pace for her young apprentice, and her long legs and swift stride meant that for every step she took, Twilightpaw had to take three. Here, however, Twilightpaw's pride served her well; it spurred her on even though all she wanted to do was lie down and pass out. At least the walk eased out some of the lactic acid building in her leg muscles, and without the pain of cramps, she was able to enjoy the moor once more.  
LightningClan could have hardly settled in a better place. The brush was the perfect height—tall enough for them to hide in, but not so tall that they had difficulty pushing through it. All around them were scents of prey, but nothing really fresh enough to distract her. The sky was blue, the sun was pleasantly warm, and the wind was playful, pulling at her ears. The hare loped alongside her, and she could tell that it was enjoying the day as much as she was.

The moorland was slightly hilly in its gradient, and mostly sand, which meant that very few trees could grow to any reasonable height. Above her head, sparrows and finches dove for the insects scattered by the cats' passing. A few of them pulled away from the group and began a series of complicated flight manoeuvres. Although they seemed difficult and pointless, Twilightpaw innately grasped why they were doing it. It was not in competition, or in practise, or for any reason at all other than that life was designed to be enjoyed, not endured.  
Abruptly, Burningfur stopped. Twilightpaw nearly tripped over her own paws pulling herself to a halt.

Ahead of her, there were trees. The moorland had flattened and the vegetation now resembled an open wood more than anything else. As her eyes travelled across them, the trees thickened and grew in height before turning into what must have been a dense forest.  
There was a clear line of scent on the forest edge. It smelt of running water, sap and a trace of leaf decay.  
"This is the DarkClan border, isn't it?" Twilightpaw asked quietly.  
"Yes," Burningfur replied, taking a few steps towards it. "DarkClan, the dangerous and cunning. They make their home in the broadleaf forest, and their camp is a large clearing somewhere in that tangle." She waved her tail dismissively.  
"DarkClan's hunting grounds are the richest of all Clan territories. As a result, this border is usually safe—perhaps the safest of all our boundaries. DarkClan cats are not fast enough to hunt on the moors, as they are ambush hunters, and they have good supplies of prey year-round. In the lush moons, they eat fish and rodents, and in the colder seasons they eat birds and rabbit. The advantage of this is that they have never found the need to hunt on our lands—the downside being that they are usually stronger than the other Clans in leaf-bare."

Twilightpaw nodded, inwardly fascinated. She had always held an interest in Clan politics, but had never expected anyone to explain them to her. Perhaps, after all, there would be advantages to having the deputy for a mentor.  
"Wait," she said, suddenly puzzled. "I thought that the border we shared with BrokenClan would be safest?"  
LightningClan shared borders with three Clans. To the north, where they were now, was DarkClan. To the west lived BrokenClan in their pine forest, who had been allies of the moorland warriors since the dawn of the Clans. There was also a small tongue of moor in the north-west that extended into the thorny scrubland of RainClan territory.  
"Nominally, perhaps," Burningfur replied. "But BrokenClan's hunting grounds are poor in leaf-bare, as most of the birds they eat spend the cold times elsewhere. Old treaties don't mean much to cats with empty bellies and starving kits. Now, can you guess why Lightningstar, the first leader, claimed this territory for us?"

Twilightpaw surveyed the land for a few moments, and chewed her lip in thought. Finally: "Was it so that we wouldn't be totally dependent on one sort of prey?"  
"That's one of the reasons, yes. There have been numerous times throughout history when rabbits have become inflicted with diseases like the white blindness*** **and been virtually wiped out. But Lightningstar also took this land because the medicine cats needed woodland for certain herbs, and also to ensure that we are not at a disadvantage when we fight other Clans. Which leads me to my reason for bringing you here."

"Disadvantage?" Twilightpaw echoed blankly.  
"Yes. Aside from RainClan, all other Clans live in forest. It is difficult for us to fight in thick trees, as we have very little room to manoeuvre and our greatest asset—our speed—is less important. So, to ensure that we could find ways to get around that problem, Lightningstar took this section of woodland so that we could learn to fight and climb in forest."  
"Clever," Twilightpaw said, impressed.  
Burningfur's lip curled, ever-so-slightly, and she padded over to a tall tree with thick branches, quite close to the DarkClan border. Suddenly, she stopped.  
"Not a sound, or you'll be cleaning soiled moss for a moon," she hissed.  
Twilightpaw craned her neck to see.

It was a DarkClan cat, sauntering along his side of the border. He was physically huge, the largest cat she'd ever seen, and his shoulders swelled with muscle. Despite his enormous size, he walked with a serene grace, a floating stride that made her feel kittish and clumsy. His pelt was the colour of a starless night and the light glinted off two silver tips to his ears. He was too far away to make out his eye colour, and as they watched, he slipped back into the trees of his territory.  
"Who was that?" Twilightpaw asked softly.  
Burningfur didn't answer for a moment. "I don't know; I've never met him before. Probably a new warrior." She shrugged. "You'll probably find out later. Or not. Now—back to the training, at last. Climb that tree."

For a few moments Twilightpaw was nonplussed. Then it sank in. "Um. Why?"  
"Because I told you to, and because you've got nothing better to do, and because I need to see how strong you are and whether your mutated foot and tail will have an impact on your physicality."  
"My tail's not a mutation," Twilightpaw said conversationally. "It was broken when my mother buried me alive. You know, the she-cat whom you like so much that you won't tell me her name."  
The ginger she-cat gave her a bland look in response. There were a few moments of silence as they met each other's gaze steadily. Finally Twilightpaw swallowed and nodded.  
She reared up on her hind legs and unsheathed her claws, hooking them into the thick bark. Slowly she drew one hind leg off the ground and attached it to the tree, followed by the other. Then she reached forward with another paw.

"Oh, for StarClan's sake!" Burningfur snarled. "I've seen moon-old kits climb better! You're a cat—would you kindly act like one!"  
"And how, pray tell me, do I do that?" Twilightpaw spat, her patience exhausted.  
"Stop thinking, for one thing! You're _designed _to climb trees. Do it in jumps. Only hook in your front claws enough to just lightly support your weight, then kick off with your back legs." She sighed. "I suppose that's what you get when you take in outsider blood."  
Twilightpaw saw red and ground her teeth so hard that they cut into her gums. Clenching her muscles, she launched herself upwards nearly five feet up the trunk. Her claws scored the bark as she found pawholds and jumped upwards again. _I can do this, _she realized.  
Then she made the mistake of looking down.

Her stomach went into freefall as she saw how far away the ground was. Burningfur was rabbit-sized, and she felt nauseous as she remembered her dream.  
_I'm going to fall, I'm going to fall…too high!  
_"Calm down, little one," whispered the hare in her ear. Its white wings were fully outstretched as it hovered beside her. "Watch me. Don't look back." It flew upwards, and landed on a thick branch, before peering down towards her. "Keep your eyes fixed on mine, Twilightpaw—now climb."  
Its eyes were black, but they seemed to be lit from within as she struggled towards them. She jumped, and jumped again, her heart deciding that it was sick of beating in her chest and migrating into her head and ears. At last she pulled herself wearily over to the branch that her hare sat on.  
For a moment she just lay there, too tired to be afraid, her limbs feeling loose and detached. Then a prickling in her fur reminded her just how high up she was, and she swallowed.  
"Can I come down now?" she called to the air.

"No," Burningfur said curtly. "You can climb quickly when you put your mind to it, it seems, but your balance is completely wrong. Walk as far as you can to the end of the tree branch. Keep your tail stretched out behind you and step lightly."  
Twilightpaw trembled. "I don't think I can."  
"Can't, or won't?"  
"Both! I…I'm afraid of heights." She hated having to admit that, but she saw no other choice. She would not walk to the end of that branch. It was hard enough staying where she was, with the trunk sturdy at her back.  
"And you think you're the only cat who's ever felt like that?"

"That's easy for you to say! You're not up here!"  
In five bounds Burningfur had cleared the trunk and leaped in front of her. "Now I am. Walk to the edge of the branch."  
"What if I fall?"  
"Then you'll fall. Do it."  
Still Twilightpaw hesitated, and at last Burningfur sighed. "Perhaps I'm being too tough on you," she said, her voice heavy with condescension. "Perhaps Rapidstar was wrong, and you're just another weak-hearted mutant kit with no place either here or there. Perhaps you're just like the others."  
Twilightpaw dug her claws in, anger heating her belly. "What _others_?"  
"The ones that couldn't last. Will you fail at your first test, Twilightpaw?"

_Never. _  
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she found the strength to put one paw in front of the other.  
For the first several steps, everything was fine, the branch not even quivering under her weight. The gaps on either side taunted her, but she closed her ears and shuffled forwards.  
The wind began to pick up.  
The branch was thinning. Now it swayed with her every movement, a violence that made her want to vomit.  
She stepped forwards again, and it bent under her.

"All right, Twilightpaw," she heard Burningfur call from an eternity away. "That's far enough. You can come back."  
Eagerness made her swivel on her paws and jump forwards more quickly than she otherwise would have done. The branch bent—and—  
_CRACK.  
_She screamed as she fell, the lesser branches tearing at her fur and skin, her claws flailing wildly as she searched for something—_anything—_to hold her. There was nothing, and she hit the ground…  
...on her feet.  
Her paws rang uncomfortably for a few moments, and she felt blood trickle down her cheek from where a branch had scratched her, but otherwise she was totally unharmed.

Burningfur slid down the trunk beside her. "I suppose nobody ever told you that there's never been an incident of a cat dying from falling out of a tree?" she said with a hint of asperity.  
"Nice to see you're all right, too," Twilightpaw muttered, feeling her fur flush with embarrassment.  
Burningfur continued. "It's actually quite remarkable. The further a cat falls, the lower the chance of serious injury. You'd be safer falling out of a 50-length tree than you would be a 25-length one. Not a bad design at all." She breathed out heavily through her nostrils. "Well, that's confirmed one thing and told me another."  
"What?" Twilightpaw said grumpily.

"It's confirmed that you're proud. Normally, that isn't such a terrible thing. Pride can get you further than almost anything else. In some cases, though, pride can be your downfall. As it was here, literally. You also don't appear to have any real knowledge of your own abilities, which is disappointing."  
"How am I supposed to know my abilities? I've never climbed a tree before."  
"Not just tree-climbing. When you ran away from me after leaving camp, you didn't judge your own energy levels. Instead you ran flat out and you've been dragging yourself after me ever since. Most apprentices can do that, at the very least. It will be a problem during your initiation phase."  
"What is that, exactly? Nobody's explained to me."

"The initiation phase is the final stage of your training. Rapidstar and a number of other senior warriors will assess every single aspect of your learning through a number of tests. I cannot explain to you what those tests are, as it would be unfair, and in some of them we need to see how well you can act when you are unprepared. The initiation phase is harsh. Not all make it."  
Twilightpaw nodded and felt her stomach clench with mild apprehension. "What happens to the ones who don't make it?"  
"They leave," Burningfur said simply. "There is no place for the weak in LightningClan. Some join different Clans, where there is less emphasis on physical strength; others leave the forest altogether and become outsiders. The initiation phase ensures that our bloodline will not weaken, as only the strong survive."

"Seems to me that it isn't working," Twilightpaw observed, "or you wouldn't have so many mutants."  
Burningfur opened her mouth, but closed it again just as swiftly. She turned away. "Come on, apprentice. It'll be evening soon."  
"What do I do once we get back to camp?" Twilightpaw asked, hoping that _eat _would be among the words her mentor would say next.  
The ginger tabby tilted her head. "I don't know," she replied. "You tell me." She began to walk.  
Twilightpaw stared after her in amazement. "I thought only the old mentors said that!"  
"Then you thought wrong."

Twilightpaw enjoyed the journey back a lot more than she had earlier. For one thing, she seemed to have gotten her second wind at last, and could generally keep up with Burningfur. For another, late afternoon was when shadows were at their strongest, and the world was full of them.  
She giggled to herself as the hare spooked a ground squirrel's shadow, causing it to shake a fist in anger. The shadows of birds greeted her with silent dips of their enormous wings. It didn't seem to matter to them that she was a cat, and their masters' hunter. They were like little kits, in a way, without a thought for anything other than _right now. _They had found a new friend, and they were happy, so they danced across the moorland with her, steering clear of her mentor.  
Burningfur's shadow was, of course, the exception. Perhaps age had something to do with shadow behaviour. Every now and again it would sweep its head sideways to look at her ("looking" being a metaphorical term—shadows had no eyes, of course), and tighten its jaw slightly before turning back. It kept close to the deputy's heels and certainly didn't frolic.

All in all, though, thought Twilightpaw, the day hadn't been completely awful. Sure, having Burningfur as a mentor had been almost as big a pain in the tail as she had expected, but the deputy hadn't lifted a paw to her yet. And she had learnt some things. Like that she was stupid and had no knowledge of her abilities.  
"You know," Burningfur said as they approached the camp, "you never asked me what I learnt."  
"Sorry?" Twilightpaw said, trying to express her concern for her mentor's sanity with a polite word.  
"I told you that when you climbed the tree, you confirmed one thing and told me another. You confirmed that you're proud and can't assess yourself objectively. But I'd already guessed that. Do you know what you taught me?"  
"I cannot possibly imagine," Twilightpaw said through gritted teeth.  
Burningfur stopped and looked back at her young apprentice. Finally, she sighed.  
"You taught me that you were brave, little one."

* myxomatosis.


	9. The Nature Of Evil

**Moon of the Scented Hills, 13****th**** Sun**

If Twilightpaw or her friends had any real concept of hell, then they would have realized that the system of LightningClan apprentice training was probably one of the darkest parts of it.  
It started at shadowdawn, the term used by the Clans for the period of morning where there was light in the sky but the sun had not begun to rise. The young cats were hustled out of camp by their mentors and taken to a flat, sandy area on the moor, not far from the DarkClan border. There, they were told to start running.

The Scouring, as the run was known, began at that point and followed a looping, torturous track through heavy sand and thorny scrub, dotted with rabbit warrens that could break a leg if you didn't watch your paws. For a strong, fit cat, the Scouring took roughly an hour and a half. For sleep-deprived, hungry apprentices, it could take much longer. Walking was not permitted. Any cat caught walking was immediately sent back to the start to run again.  
The apprentice who came last did not get breakfast, and that was always Twilightpaw.

It wasn't fair, not by anyone's standards. Wolfpaw and Crimsonpaw were the older apprentices, and had run it every sun for the past four moons. They battled each other constantly for the lead, with Crimsonpaw usually getting it due to her long stride and lighter build. After them, and gaining on them every sun, was Longpaw. Valiantpaw ran second-last, though Twilightpaw had a sneaking suspicion that her foster-brother could have made it much more of a contest if he'd wanted to. At any rate, he was the only one of them with any breath left when they all arrived back in camp.  
Sheer willpower kept Twilightpaw from slowing to a walk, though StarClan knew how much she'd wanted to. The other apprentices were long out of her sight by the half-way mark, so she had no idea if her times were improving. Longpaw would probably have run with her, if she'd asked, but Phantomfall had been _very _clear that any apprentice caught not running with his or her full potential would suffer serious consequences. He had not needed to elaborate on those consequences. All of them had faced LightningClan discipline on more than one occasion; there were some things that you just couldn't ask a friend to go through. The most common punishment was when the apprentice (or, on occasion, warrior) was forced to eat a strange kind of grainy plant matter before gulping down huge amounts of water. The grain swelled inside their stomachs and caused bloating and constipation, not to mention terrible pain. Crimsonpaw had told Twilightpaw quietly that the Swallowing wasn't even the worst LightningClan had to offer. She'd once been forced to roll on sharpened sticks and stones for three hours in the freezing leaf-bare night.

When Twilightpaw finally limped into camp, she would find Burningfur waiting for her. The ginger she-cat never made any comment on her run, merely giving Twilightpaw a few minutes to get a drink of water and lick her scratches, before taking her out training.  
One morning, after a particularly exhausting run, Twilightpaw had had enough.  
"Why are you doing this to us?" she snarled. "It's torture!"  
"It's necessary," Burningfur replied coolly. "We're cats. Not designed to run for long periods of time. If a thing isn't natural, it must be taught, and usually that teaching is painful. Our ability to run for so long and so fast is our greatest strength, and we must preserve that at all costs. If you can't do it, then you should leave and join the outrunners."  
"It's stupid!" Twilightpaw said bitterly.  
"If you won, would you say that?" her mentor said with a trace of mockery. She glanced up at the sun. "Do you know the legend of Lightningstar's race?"

Twilightpaw blinked, because Burningfur had no time for ancient stories of any sort. "Um. Vaguely. He argued with a hare over the right to a bit of land, so they had a Scouring race, and he completed the race in like half an hour."  
"Do you know how?"  
"No, I didn't listen. It was a dumb story."  
Burningfur raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Well, consider this your first assignment. Find out how Lightningstar won the race, and you're excused from future Scourings."  
"Um. What?"  
"I don't believe you're deaf, Twilightpaw."

"No, I mean, seriously? All I have to do is ask Ambershade or Missingclaw. They'll tell me. And then I don't have to do any more runs? You promise?"  
"I swear by StarClan," the deputy said.  
_This is a trick, _Twilightpaw thought to herself. _Nothing can be this easy. _"All right, then, I'll ask them tonight."  
Without even a trace of a smile, Burningfur strode through the camp entrance. Twilightpaw followed, thinking about the lessons she'd learned over the past week.  
The two cats couldn't like each other, and probably never would. Their personalities were simply too incompatible. Despite this, Twilightpaw felt a reluctant admiration of the fact that her mentor never let her grudge interfere with training. When Twilightpaw did something well, she said so. The same skill extended to the other cats in the Clan. Twilightpaw had observed several times how Burningfur kept her fur flat and her tone neutral even as her shadow crouched and prepared to spring. The time they'd spent together had peeled some parts of Burningfur's outward demeanour away, and Twilightpaw grasped at a nature that was brutal, sly, and infinitely lonely. There was very little kindness in the ginger she-cat, and for some reason that pleased Twilightpaw, because she knew that there wasn't a whole lot of it in herself. She tended to feel supremely uncomfortable around kind cats, such as Longpaw and Stormheart, because she just didn't know why they committed such altruism. What was the point? They never asked for favours in return.

And yet, and yet…though Burningfur was far from kind, she wasn't exactly cruel. Not in the way that Silvertail was, or Rapidstar could be. Her words were harsh but not intended to wound. And she was clever—in fact, her intelligence bordered on genius. It was this cunning, this ability to examine everything from every angle, that Twilightpaw found herself trying to emulate most. It was a skill Valiantpaw seemed to possess in such vast quantities—and one that other cats didn't appear to realize existed.  
"Burningfur," she called out to her mentor as they walked. "Can I ask you something?"  
"You can," she replied.  
"Do you believe in evil?"  
"It depends on your definition of evil." She stopped, however, and tilted her head back towards her apprentice.  
"I mean…" Twilightpaw thought on how to elaborate. "Do you think that…there's this, force, or something, that makes cats do things?" She stopped, frustrated at her own inability to communicate.

"You mean, do I believe evil is an external thing, that possesses cats and forces them into doing evil acts?"  
"Yes. I think so."  
"No, I don't," Burningfur said simply. Glancing into Twilightpaw's eyes, she realized, perhaps, that her apprentice wanted a more detailed view on the subject, and sat down, motioning for the tabby to do the same.  
"About eight moons before you were born, there was an incident involving SnowClan and HollowClan. There were two warriors, a brother and a sister. Both were SnowClan bred, through and through, but the brother had gone to join HollowClan at a young age, claiming it was the destiny StarClan chose for him."

"And HollowClan let him join?" Twilightpaw asked, wondering where Burningfur was going.  
"In the very early days of Clan history, Clan-crossing, as the practise is known, was forbidden. Then eventually cats came to realize that without fresh bloodlines in the Clans we would weaken too easily. Thus, if a cat did not feel at home in the place of his birth, he was permitted to find another, provided that the Clan accepted him. Not many cats chose to join HollowClan, before and after, so they were desperate for new blood.  
"I will teach you more of the politics involving Clan-crossing and the Bloodline Laws later, once you have been to your first Gathering, but suffice to say, the Bloodline Laws were a series of rules enacted about the conduct of cross-Clan siblings. One of those laws is that siblings are free to visit each other on the borders of their respective territories once a moon, so long as there are other warriors from each Clan to observe them and as long as the two Clans are not at war. That was what these siblings would do. They would meet at the Thunderpath that crossed both their territories with other warriors. And one day, they were both sitting and talking, when they heard a shining beast racing past them, and the SnowClan sister stood up and pushed her brother under it."  
Silence reigned between them for a few seconds; then Twilightpaw found her voice. "She murdered him?"

"Yes," Burningfur said distantly. "And no-one had any idea why. She had been a bright, pleasant-natured she-cat, not exceptional in any way, but a decent enough warrior. Her friends tried to plead with Brightstar, their leader, claiming that she was mad and that she should only be exiled. They dragged up all sorts of reasons—they came from a broken family, there were rumours of mental instability in the bloodline, that sort of thing."  
Twilightpaw suddenly had a vivid flash of Moonpelt telling her that there were mutations of the mind, in which cats were born without mercy or conscience. "Did it work?"  
"No. She was executed." Burningfur replied. "She wasn't exactly given a fair trial—HollowClan was furious, and breathing down SnowClan's neck the entire time—but even if she had, I think the result would have been the same. She'd killed senselessly and there was no real doubt that she would do so again. I spoke to her, as an independent observer for her trial. We spoke normally. I asked her about the death of her brother and she told me frankly how she'd decided to do it, planned to do it, and did it. She had no understanding that what she did was wrong and seemed honestly bemused by the whole fuss. In her defence, I don't think she ever realized that her brother was actually dead, or that she was responsible for it. She appeared to think that he was just going to get up and walk away, like the ancient warriors did in their battles." She sighed, her breath a whisper on the wind. "You asked me if I thought of evil as independent force. No. I think of evil as a sickness. As we grow older, we are infected naturally as part of life, but as long as we fight, the disease stays dormant within us, only showing itself in our thoughts. When we stop fighting, then it contaminates everything we do. I prefer to think that Riversplash—that was her name—simply gave up."

Twilightpaw thought about this for a few moments. "But then…what HollowClan did, afterwards."  
"Yes," Burningfur said calmly. "Sparrowhawk's murder was the beginning of six moons of enormous tension between SnowClan and HollowClan. It seemed foolish to the rest of us. Riversplash had been charged, judged, and executed by her own leader—what more could SnowClan have done? They could not bring back Sparrowhawk, no matter how much they might wish to. Later on, it became clear that Clawstar could not have cared less about his dead warrior. It was just an excuse that he wanted so that he could get his paws on more blood and land. He deliberately kept the tension alive between the two Clans, subtly accusing them of prey-stealing and trespass. Then, two moons before your birth, at the Gathering he claimed that SnowClan had stolen HollowClan kits and declared total war. He marched on them the night after that."

Twilightpaw's eyes were as wide as the moon. "And the other Clans just let him?"  
Burningfur's face was blank. "They weren't sure who to believe," she said quietly. "Clawstar had been poisoning their minds with his sly accusations, so that they half-believed his attack was justified. It was easier than trying to take a stand."  
"Did Rapidstar feel the same way?"  
Burningfur blinked. "I asked him if we were going to aid SnowClan in any way. He replied that it was StarClan's choice, and that it was the natural way of the world for the weak to be driven away by the strong."  
Twilightpaw frowned, thinking on this. "Was SnowClan really that weak?"

"In terms of numbers, or skill, no. But SnowClan is known as the Forsaken by some, because of all Clans they were the only ones who did not have a true leader gifted by StarClan when we first arrived here. Many pointed to that as a sign, that perhaps SnowClan had been forgotten by their ancestors and didn't really deserve a place in the forest. They have—had—weathered more attacks and sieges throughout the seasons than any other Clan, and there have been many councils and decision boards that excluded the SnowClan leader. Perhaps it is not so surprising, after all, that they were the first to fall."  
Suddenly the world went black before bursting into a new scene behind Twilightpaw's eyes. She choked back a cry of horror as her senses were overwhelmed by something beyond even nightmares. She felt sick at the scent of blood and gore, but something beyond sense perceived the emotions in the air: despair, grief, agony, rage, hatred, wild triumph. She heard the weak cries of pain and the laughter of some HollowClan warriors and even the silence of others as they trembled before StarClan. Finally, she saw a shadowy tom lashing his tail from a tree branch, laughing as he gazed down at the blood-drenched scene beneath him, and a small pale tabby she-cat that lay heaving on the forest floor, her body spasming as nine lives poured from a wound too deadly to heal. She saw two warriors, each carrying a tiny kit, creep away through the trees, and she saw a river that curved near the camp run crimson with blood.

_Oh, my little ones! _ a voice said desperately.  
"No, Twilightpaw," whispered the hare, softly, "this was before your time,"  
_Where are you? _the apprentice called in her mind.  
"Beside you, as always."  
She took a deep, shuddering breath and forced the vision out of her mind. Burningfur was watching her expressionlessly.  
"Are you well, Twilightpaw?"  
"Not at all. Please continue. Did HollowClan kill _everyone?_"

Burningfur was silent for a few moments, and her shadow tipped its head in mild confusion. "No," she finally said. "There were two survivors. Small kits, a few days old. They were taken because they could be raised as HollowClan warriors and were too young to hold any loyalty to their birth Clan. I doubt they even know that they were from SnowClan."  
"So you've seen them."  
"Oh, yes. They're apprentices, now. Strong cats, with great potential." She stood up. "We had better get a move on if we want to get any training done today."  
"What _are _we doing today?"

"Tracking," Burningfur replied. "It's a very useful skill, often overlooked by others. They tend to rely on their scent glands . But there are some things that they won't tell you." The ginger she-cat was silent as she led her young apprentice through the moor, eventually stopping at a stretch of sand. "Tell me what animal has passed through here."  
Twilightpaw appraised the ground. There were definitely tracks there, but they meant nothing to her. She drew in the air through her mouth, before realizing that the scent was almost too faint to taste. "I don't know."

Burningfur nodded. "I expected as much. It's hard to follow scents across certain places, such as sand, because most scent comes from the oil animals produce through their feet. With sand, it tends to stick to the pads, blocking the scent. The same goes for mud. There are also substances that don't hold scent well, like rock, and of course there are some places where the scent of the area coats the surroundings too strongly to pick anything up." She gestured with her tail. "Take a closer look at the tracks. You have common sense, I think, so try to use it for once. Tell me what you get from them."  
Twilightpaw ignored the passive-aggressive insult and bent into the tracks. "They go deep into the ground," she said, hesitantly, "so the animal that made them must be heavy. The individual marks are all close together, so the animal has short legs. There are clawmarks in front of each track—deep ones—meaning big claws."  
"Good," Burningfur said simply. "Also note the slight blurring of the edges of the pawprint. That means the animal has long fur. The tracks are all even in depth, so the beast was setting its paws down equally—not running, and not wounded. If I had to make my guess, I'd say that this is a wolverine."  
"A—what?"

Burningfur looked thoughtful. "No, I don't suppose there's any reason for you to have heard of them, is there? They're rare in these parts. A wolverine is a large and very powerful kind of weasel, but it looks more like a small bear. It is extremely ferocious and will eat almost anything, including other predators."  
"Are we in danger?" Twilightpaw had no idea how Burningfur could remain so calm.  
"We might be. They're certainly capable of killing cats. On the other paw, the fact that it is moving like this suggests that it's migrating. They are great travellers and rarely stay in one place for long. I'd say it's already scoped this area out for food—probably killed a few deer—and is returning to the mountains. They're more at home there, as it's colder." She tilted her head. "And that's why tracking is useful. Your nose would tell you that there's a wolverine in the area, but it won't tell you what it's like or what its intentions are. By examining the tracks, we can tell that it is a large, predatory animal—one that's moving out of our land."

Twilightpaw nodded slowly. "How do you fight a wolverine?"  
"You don't," Burningfur replied bluntly. "Wolverines are fast, excellent climbers, and unstoppable in battle. All you can really do is hide and hope it's not hungry." She turned away. "Come on—there are more tracks you should know about."  
Twilightpaw gave the wolverine tracks one last, apprehensive look, and followed her mentor.


	10. The Honour of Warriors

**Hello all! I'm back from Borneo and will be updating stories as regularly as I can. One note: The Clans' calendar is based solely on the phases of the moon. Hence there are always precisely 28 days in a month, beginning and ending at the new moon phase. The full moon is therefore always on the 14****th**** of each given month.  
Sorry for the gap between chapters—I've been pretty busy visiting the relatives what with Christmas and New Year and all. Hope you guys had a great holiday too.**

**Moon of the Scented Hills, 14****th**** Sun**

She was dreaming again.  
It was dark, totally dark, and she had no control over her body. Some intense, bloody power was forcing air in and out of her lungs and throbbing her heart, and that force moved her legs onwards through the darkness, ignoring her terror.  
Her shoulder smacked against something disgustingly soft and warm, and the scent of gore burned her glands. Thunder snarled loudly above her head, and she wailed, calling out for someone, _anyone, _to help her.  
The storm broke with a bang that tore at her ears, and rain fell; but it was no natural shower. The rain smelt of fire and the poison that they sometimes found on rabbits—the rabbits that no sane cat would eat. It burned little holes in her skin and the odour singed her eyes.  
With a flash, light came into the world, and she began screaming like she would never stop.  
Corpses of all the cats she had known hung from the trees, with their tails tied like vines to the branches. The rain was melting their flesh, and even as she watched, a gob of grey fur slid to the ground next to her. She looked into Longpaw's decaying face, and his eyes opened—bloodshot and sticky with discharge.

_"Get out!" _he shrieked at her. "_Go away! No-one wants you here! Scram and live with the outrunners, mutant!"  
_The force took a hold of her limbs and dragged her away, and this time she was grateful for it even as it plunged her into darkness again. It made her run through the burning rain until the drops stopped eating through her pelt and became simply water again, and the storm was just a storm, with occasional flashes of lightning to guide her way.  
She should have felt comforted, but ice was creeping up her spine and she shook uncontrollably. _Please let me go home, _she begged whatever power was controlling her. _StarClan, I just want to go home._

__"But you _are _home, little one," an insidious voice hissed. "This is your mind. How could you want to be anywhere else?"  
Two blazing green eyes, that casted light like the sun, shone out of the rain and howling wind, and Twilightpaw found that she was free again. Obeying an unexplainable instinct, she ducked out of the way of the circles of light.  
"This is ridiculous. You can't hide from me. You can't hide from _yourself._"  
"You are _not _me," she whispered, but it was a mistake. The eyes used her voice to lock onto her position, and she only just managed to wriggle away in time. She kept moving, trying to be as silent as possible, while the light swept through her surroundings. In its glare, she thought she saw the LightningClan camp.

The voice began to sing softly, eerily, almost to itself. Its tone was oddly sweet and lilting, and Twilightpaw had the sickening feeling that she'd heard the song before. She searched her memory, but could find no trace. It sounded like a song a mother might sing to her kits, but distorted and dark.  
_The bark of the elder makes whistles for the little ones  
To call to the deer as they roam over the snow.  
We were born in the dark, before you.  
We will die in the light, after you.  
Nothing else matters; I don't care what you do.  
You will never come close to how I feel._

Twilightpaw shook off her nauseous nostalgia and pushed onwards, sneaking in between the eyes' relentless scan before she reached her goal. She had no real idea what had drawn her to it, but it seemed to make a symbolic sort of sense.  
She leaped onto the peak of the Lightningridge, and stood as tall as she could.  
"_You are not me,_" she snarled before springing on top of the eyes' head. But there was nothing beneath her claws and she tumbled into darkness.  
Something thick and heavy landed on her chest, crushing the air out of her. "What…now?" she gurgled helplessly, and without warning the pressure vanished.

She lay there, choking on her own terror, and she heard a voice. It was something like the cruel, sweet voice she'd heard before, but at the same time completely different.  
First there was a deep sigh, as though it were slightly disappointed in her.  
_I'm only the dark, Twilightpaw, _it said gently. _I'm only the absence of light. I'm the same as your shadow friends. I can't hurt you, and you know it. It's your own thoughts that you're afraid of. Sometimes our worst enemies are ourselves.  
_Twilightpaw listened, and felt her heartbeat slow.  
_Breathe deep and wake up.  
Breathe deep…  
_She opened her eyes to find Longpaw sitting by her side. He looked so frightened that she had to smile.

"I'm all right," she lied to him. But they weren't kits anymore; he was wiser now, and he didn't believe her.  
"It's time for the Gathering," was all he said. "You know that all apprentices have to go to the one right after their ceremony so that they can be introduced to the other Clans."  
"I know that. Just because I had a nightmare doesn't make me an idiot." She climbed to her paws and licked her fur down. There were no other apprentices in the den; she guessed they'd been frightened away by her convulsions, but it hurt slightly that Valiantpaw hadn't stayed to wake her.  
"I'm not going to this Gathering," Longpaw said with mild disappointment. "I asked, but my mentor said that since I went to the last two I had to give someone else a go."

"So which other apprentice is going? There's always a senior one, right?"  
"Yeah, it's Crimsonpaw's turn. Won't be much longer before she and Wolfpaw are warriors anyway, so they get told all the _secret _stuff." Her friend curled his lip slightly as he emphasised the word.  
Longpaw put his tail around her shoulders and steered her out of the apprentices' den, but instead of taking her to the assembled cats below the Lightningridge he pushed her towards a more secluded part of camp where they would not be overheard.

"Okay, Twilightpaw. I've seen those "nightmares" of yours before, many times. I've also seen other cats who've had nightmares. They don't thrash so hard that they pull muscles, they aren't physically sick when they wake up, they don't freeze solid when they talk about it later. You do."  
The brown tabby looked into the eyes of her friend, mercifully clear and yellow without any trace of pus. How could she explain without sounding like she was infected with the foaming-mouth disease?*

Something in Longpaw's face softened, and he sighed. "You can tell me later, you know," he said. "When you think of a good lie. But I'm your friend, Twilightpaw, and I want to help you. I really do."  
"I know," she replied calmly, and at last she came to a decision. "I see things."  
He tilted his head. "Do you mean like medicine cat things? Like Moonpelt?"  
"No. And Moonpelt doesn't get StarClan dreams…but anyway. The things I see aren't real; they just feel real. It's hard to explain…but I have a vision or a nightmare or whatever, and I know it's not real but at the same time I believe it _is _real. I feel like I'm split in half, with one part of me seeing these things and the other half causing them." She frowned, frustrated at her lack of fluency. "I think it's a mutation, like my twisted paw, except it's in my head."

"What sort of things do you see?" Longpaw asked, dropping his voice. So far he had remained quite calm, though she could sense his unease.  
She shrugged. "Lots. Sometimes good, mostly bad. But I don't like remembering them too much, because sometimes that makes me see them again." She looked down. "It's been so long since I had a nightmare like that I was beginning to think I was cured."  
"Have you talked to Moonpelt about this?"  
"Not exactly, but I once brushed upon the subject, and she made it pretty clear that she couldn't help me."

"You could go to the Spirit Creek," he suggested. "Maybe StarClan will give you some answers."  
She half-smiled at his naivety. "I don't really believe in StarClan anymore, Longpaw," she said. "I don't believe that there is a tribe of mystical dead cats that live in the sky and watch over everything we do. If you listen to Rapidstar, he'll tell you that StarClan can do anything. But if they can do anything, why did they let HollowClan drown SnowClan in blood? Why did they let that she-cat murder her brother without realizing what she was doing? If StarClan wants to help us, but can't, then they have no power. If they can help us, but don't want to, then they're evil and should be overthrown. If they can't do it and don't want to, then why they hell are we worshipping them? They should be worshipping _us._"  
"You know I hate these sorts of discussions," Longpaw said, "but I think it's the second thing. They can, but they don't. You're oversimplifying the issue by saying that makes them evil. Evil is a subjective thing—even I know that. You know, the old story that Missingclaw told us—that a freedom fighter can also be called a terrorist, depending on what side you're on. Maybe they just want us to have free will."

"If you were a father and you saw one of your kits attempting to torture the other to death, would you stop him, or would you step back and say, 'Ah, they must have free will'—" but she sighed and shook her head. "Never mind. I've told you now. I should go before they leave me behind."  
Longpaw bit his lip slightly and looked sad. "Yeah. I suppose you should. See you around, Twilightpaw, and thanks for telling me."  
"I should have said something earlier," she replied, and turned to walk away, before Longpaw's voice suddenly stopped her.  
"Hey, have you ever considered it might not be a mutation? Maybe it's something that your parents passed onto you. Like Dreamcloud's eyes—they're strange, but they aren't mutations, they were in her bloodline. So if you could find your parents, and if one of them has this…condition, maybe they can help you with it."

"Maybe," Twilightpaw answered without much hope. The only chance she had of finding her parents was connected to Moonpelt and the strange she-cat that had brought her to the Clan. Moonpelt was unlikely to talk and nobody would tell her the loner's name.  
Twilightpaw joined the throng of cats at the base of the Lightningridge. Burningfur spotted her almost at once.  
"You're late," she growled.  
"Everyone's still here, so how can I be late?" Twilightpaw replied with a yawn. Burningfur scowled and sighed. "Is it too much to ask that you don't embarrass me tonight in front of the entire forest?"  
Instantly Twilightpaw saw her chance. It was hardly a noble thing to do—something that a mother would be horrified to see, in fact—but as she had remarked to herself previously, there wasn't much that was noble about her.  
"I won't embarrass you," she said, "if you tell me the name of the she-cat that brought me to the Clan."

Burningfur's eyes narrowed to slits. "I really don't see how you're in a position to make bargains."  
Twilightpaw shrugged her stocky shoulders. "Hey, it's your reputation, not mine. Nobody's going to care if some silly outrunner-spawn apprentice makes a fool of herself at her first Gathering. They just might shake their heads at her mentor, who clearly hasn't been teaching her correctly."  
"Blackmail, small one? Perhaps you've learned something from me after all. Very well, if you behave then I will tell you her name."  
Twilightpaw quickly checked for crossed legs. Satisfied, she nodded and fell into step behind her mentor, who followed behind Rapidstar as the Clan moved out of the camp. As she did so, she remembered the "assignment" that Burningfur had given her earlier. She looked around for the elders and her gaze landed on Missingclaw, who was limping slightly behind the column of cats. She pushed her way through the throng and to his side.

"Better be careful, she-kit-with-the-twisted-paw," the old tom said in his hoarse, scratchy voice.  
"Why?"  
"Passing through BrokenClan territory. Lots of owls." Missingclaw never used two words when one would do.  
"They wouldn't attack a group so big, would they?"  
"Certainly would. Owls are fast. And silent. And no-one ever looks up. One cat, two cats, twenty cats, a thousand—no, numbers are no concern. He is our brother in the sky, you know."  
Twilightpaw didn't know, particularly how a furred four-legged beast could be related to a feathered and winged bird, but she decided it wouldn't be the best idea to say so. Instead she said, "Do you know the story of Lightningstar and the hare?"  
"Wouldn't be much of an elder if I didn't."  
"How did he actually win the race?"  
"Why? You've never cared before."  
"Please, can you just answer me?" She was fighting to keep her tongue from unleashing several less-polite retorts.

Missingclaw squinted at her for a few moments, before saying: "He went so slowly at the start that after half an hour the hare thought the race was a done deal and went to sleep in one of his scrapes. Well, you know as well as I that you aren't allowed to stop in a Scouring, so the hare was disqualified and Lightningstar automatically won by default. Of course, that was his plan all along."  
Twilightpaw was briefly silenced. "That…seems…pretty anti-climatic."  
"Do you know the moral to that story?"  
"Is it something like don't underestimate your opponent? Or, like, never get overconfident?"  
"Well, you could apply those morals, but no. The message, as I've always seen it, is to _never trust a cat. _We're tricksy beings, and cheating and slyness is as much a part of us as our fur."  
Light dawned on Twilightpaw as she suddenly realized what Burningfur had in mind. _Tell me how he won the race…and you'll never have to run in a Scouring. _No, she wouldn't—not if she _cheated.  
_"Missingclaw," she said, "it must have been hard for you, in the Scourings, with your…handicap."  
"Yes, I cheated," he replied as though reading her mind. "Took a shortcut. Took several. There's almost never more than three cats watching the race. They can't be everywhere. Trick is to not come any quicker than third. Otherwise they'll know."  
"Did you ever get caught?"  
"My mentor knew. Yes. But he never told. Think he was proud of me, in fact. Cheating's been a part of the Scouring for generations. Never regretted doing it."

Twilightpaw nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks." She trotted forwards to rejoin her mentor.  
They crossed over the moorland border into the pine woodland of BrokenClan territory, and Twilightpaw shivered slightly as the moon and stars vanished from overhead. The air seemed tight and closed, although fragrant, and there were very few grasses and shrubs beneath her paws. It seemed warmer, somehow, as though the needles of the evergreens were trapping the heat.  
LightningClan bunched closer together as they wove their way through the trunks, fur bristling slightly. They startled at every small noise—the sound of a pine cone falling, the rustle of the wind through the needles. Twilightpaw kept scanning the sky for owls, worried despite herself, but she saw nothing.  
Finally they emerged from BrokenClan territory and into the patch of unclaimed land known simply as the Zone. The Zone was relatively pretty, with trees and grass, though the area smelled oddly empty of prey. Somewhere in the depths of the Zone, the Spirit Creek, where medicine cats (but not leaders) spoke with StarClan, flowed on its inevitable course.

But there was also another patch of the Zone that was of interest to the Clans—the Tranquil Clearing. The original Clan leaders had found it and come up with the name, with a hint of secrecy in their voices, it was said. Every full moon the Clans gathered there, to share news and pass laws. There was a truce of peace, but that hadn't stopped cats breaking it in the past.  
Rapidstar drew his Clan to a halt outside the Clearing. "Stay close, and say little," he warned his warriors. "I don't expect much from this Gathering, but you never know."  
"I do," Burningfur whispered, for Twilightpaw's ears alone. "SnowClan's territory has been unoccupied for seven moons. HollowClan will try and make a claim for it tonight, I think."

"Why not earlier?" she replied quietly.  
"Waiting for the fuss to die down. No-one would have given HollowClan their spoils directly after the massacre, but the horror's faded somewhat. Cats are beginning to forget." She walked onwards. "Don't follow me, and remember your promise."  
Twilightpaw nodded and stepped into the Clearing. It was huge, with easily enough space for the Clans to gather, and it was dominated by a tumble of boulders where the leaders and deputies stood to address the warriors.  
There were dozens of new scents. Some were overlaid by other smells she knew—the pine-needle scent of BrokenClan, the water-and-leaves odour of DarkClan—but many were completely unfamiliar to her. She identified the Clan-scent of the other two. The sharp, bramble smell probably belonged to RainClan—she was vaguely familiar with it as they shared a tiny border— and the stench of decay and mud was undoubtedly HollowClan.

She caught sight of Valiantpaw's mahogany pelt weaving in and out of the settling cats, and she quickly joined him. "Where are you going? Rapidstar told us to stay close."  
Valiantpaw rolled his eyes slightly. "Neither of us has ever paid attention to anything Rapidstar's had to say. I don't see why we should start now. I want to talk to the other Clan apprentices." He flicked his tail to a group of cats, slightly smaller than the warriors. Some looked overwhelmed, and she guessed it was their first Gathering, too. Many kits were made into apprentices in newleaf.  
"Coming?" Valiantpaw asked. She nodded impatiently and pushed ahead. To their surprise, Crimsonpaw joined them, strutting confidently and even nodding to a few warriors. She was practically a veteran of Gatherings now.

"Hello, Greenpaw!" Crimsonpaw cheerfully greeted an apprentice with ginger-and-tabby fur. Her eyes were large and the colour of her name. From her scent, she was BrokenClan.  
"Hi," Greenpaw replied with minor restraint. She was smaller than Crimsonpaw, but larger than Twilightpaw, so the brown tabby assumed their ages followed a similar pattern. "You're not a warrior yet?"  
Crimsonpaw shook her head. "Soon, though. I hope." She turned around. "Oh, good—Shiverpaw. It's great to see you too."  
Shiverpaw, a blue-grey she-cat, gave the barest hint of a smile. Her pelt shimmered in the moonlight, drawing the eyes of those around her, so it took Twilightpaw a few moments to realise that she was missing an ear. A mutant.

"Who are your friends, Crimsonpaw? I've never seen them before," Greenpaw noted.  
Crimsonpaw swished her tail around Twilightpaw and her foster-brother. "This is Twilightpaw, and this is Valiantpaw. They're our newest apprentices."  
"Nice to meet you," Twilightpaw said, which Valiantpaw echoed.  
"_Another _mutant," a new voice said dryly. Twilightpaw bristled and turned to face a big red-brown tom with muddy-red eyes. HollowClan. "Bet you don't last in your first battle."  
Twilightpaw curled her lip. "If being normal gives me a face like yours, I'd rather be missing a leg."  
The big apprentice paused. "So would I." He extended a paw in a strange but oddly polite gesture. "I'm Redpaw. HollowClan."

"Twilightpaw, LightningClan," she replied, startled by his abrupt change of attitude. At the same time, distrust was prickling at her spine. He looked to be about halfway through his apprenticeship, and there was something unfocused in his sanguine eyes that chilled her a little.  
He was suddenly shouldered aside by an equally big dark grey tom. He was clearly his brother, though his eyes were completely different—a strange, pale-blue colour with a hint of violet.  
"Don't mind Redpaw," the new tom said softly. "He's just grumpy because this is only his second Gathering. I'm Ravenpaw, his brother."  
Twilightpaw examined them both. "Twilightpaw," she repeated quietly. She glanced around. "Are there any DarkClan apprentices here?"  
"I would think so," said a very deep voice beside her. The young apprentice nearly jumped out of her pelt as a gigantic cat blinked scarlet eyes at her.

Long ago, Moonpelt had told her that the holly-red eyes of Darkstar was the first recorded mutation. No cat could naturally have eyes that colour, she'd said, but he'd been passing it down to his offspring throughout Clan history. Sometimes it missed generations, but it always reappeared. Here was a tom who was practically a twin of his mighty ancestor, with thick black fur, powerful shoulders, and huge feet.  
She realized that she'd seen him before, on her first patrol with Burningfur. A prickle went up her spine, but it wasn't fear—or not entirely.  
"_You're _an apprentice?" Valiantpaw demanded. "You're bigger than half the warriors!"  
The black tom didn't smile. "This is my first Gathering. I'm Cloakedpaw."  
"Cloaked…?" Valiantpaw asked. The word was unfamiliar in Clanspeak.  
"When you cover something up in shadows," he said, with the air of one who has answered the question many times. "I'm not Clanborn."

Valiantpaw soon lost interest in the big tom and his reluctant answers and returned to the other apprentices, who were soon won over by his charm (with the possible exception of Shiverpaw). Twilightpaw, however, was fascinated by the dark apprentice. "I'm not Clanborn either," she admitted softly. He said nothing to this, but his eyes swept her from head-to-tail in a calculating way.  
"You're a mutant," he said, nodding to her foot.  
"Yes," she said, then boldly added, "are you? Apart from your eyes, that is?"  
"Oh, yes," Cloakedpaw said darkly, "but I'd rather not say how, if it's all the same."  
She nodded mutely, and was saved from having to reply by Rapidstar's voice.  
"We gather here beneath the eyes of StarClan and the shine of the moon, guarded by the Tranquil Clearing. On this night, we swear total and utter peace to all. Should the peace be broken, they will invite the wrath of StarClan."

"This we swear," a rumble rang across from the warriors. Twilightpaw rolled her eyes, but to her surprise Cloakedpaw followed their lead carefully.  
A big bone-white tom with dark hazel eyes crouched on the highest boulder. "Greetings, warriors, queens, apprentices, elders, deputies, fellow Clan leaders. I bid you all welcome. There are matters that must be discussed between our Clans, but I am content to wait until the other Clan leaders have spoken."  
"Is that…?" began Twilightpaw, and Cloakedpaw nodded brusquely.  
"Clawstar. Leader of HollowClan."  
She stared at the white cat, somewhat startled. He was far less intimidating then she'd expected. But by all accounts he was a brutal fiend of a cat, with a thirst for blood that marked him beyond others.  
Rapidstar twitched his ears and began to speak the polite talk of a leader with little to discuss. He ended with, "And we have two new apprentices in LightningClan. Twilightpaw and Valiantpaw."  
The other warriors and apprentices craned their necks to get a look at them, but Twilightpaw did not step forwards so none of the cats realized who she was. She was gratified to see Valiantpaw doing the same.

"You're supposed to announce yourself, you know," Cloakedpaw said dryly.  
"I don't care. I don't want them knowing who I am. There'll be time for that when I rip their fur off in fights."  
Cloakedpaw rolled his scarlet eyes slightly, and Twilightpaw felt strangely stung.  
The leader of BrokenClan, Hawkstar, spoke next. He had little of interest to say other than the mention of a wolverine. Twilightpaw pricked her ears at this. If the wolverine was the same one that left the tracks earlier, then it must have detoured back through LightningClan territory to get to BrokenClan land. Burningfur had been wrong about it migrating.  
Shadowstar of RainClan spoke third, again with nothing of note, but there was a tenseness in her words that signalled impatience. Twilightpaw felt her heart beat faster. What would Clawstar say?  
There was one more surprise to come first, however.

"And now—DarkClan?" Rapidstar asked with a puzzled expression. It took Twilightpaw a few moments to work out why before realizing that only four Clan leaders sat on the leader rocks. Where was the leader of DarkClan?  
Beside her, Cloakedpaw tensed and a growl rumbled in his throat.  
A small black she-cat covered in bold ginger patches leaped from the deputy rocks to sit by Rapidstar. "Violentstar died some time ago. I have been recognized by StarClan as the new leader of DarkClan, and I am now Deathstar." There was a harsh edge to her voice.

"_Death_star? What did she do to get a name like that?" Twilightpaw muttered. Cloakedpaw growled again. "She was a rogue called Death originally and never looked back when she joined our Clan."  
"A rogue?" Twilightpaw felt dumb, repeating what he had just said, but she couldn't help it. Although half-Clans were born all the time, and it wasn't even uncommon for outrunner kits to be picked up like herself and Cloakedpaw, it was rare that an older non-Clan cat would be accepted into the ranks of warriors, and unheard of for them to be promoted. Particularly with a fiercely proud Clan like DarkClan.

She must be quite a cat, Twilightpaw mused, and felt the familiar touch of a shadow brush her pelt. She turned sideways to look at it and met the blank face of a shadow she didn't know.  
It was pale, too pale for a bright night of full moonshine, and it trembled in the slight breeze. It looked as though it was struggling to hold its form together.  
Twilightpaw felt the sensation that she'd only experienced once before—that the shadow was trying to tell her something.  
"What?" she whispered. "What is it?"  
The shadow touched its muzzle to her ear. _Hhhhh…._

__"It is a great sadness, but DarkClan will continue, as we show now by revealing our latest apprentice, Cloakedpaw." The big black tom stepped next to the fading shadow, and his own crossed it. Cloakedpaw's shadow bared its teeth at the stranger, which huddled close to the ground in submission. But the sudden stress was too much for the pale shadow and it stumbled away from the group of cats and into the darkness.  
_Damn, damn, damn it all, _the LightningClan apprentice thought.  
The strange shadow took flight from her mind, though, because Clawstar had stepped forwards again and began to speak.

"My fellow Clans. You know that roughly seven moons ago a battle was fought between my Clan and that of SnowClan, who perished in such great numbers that they no longer hold a place in the Gathering tonight."  
"Aye," Hawkstar said with some heat, "and I also recall that your invasion of their land was not entirely justified."  
Clawstar gave him a thin smile. "Not justified? I'll remind you that SnowClan had murdered one of our best warriors and made regular entries into our territory."  
"The killer you speak of was executed by Brightstar herself," Shadowstar said in a surprisingly soft voice. "And you have never shown us any proof of these entries, of which Brightstar always fervently denied."

"What does it matter?" Rapidstar growled. "The past is past. If you had concerns, it should have been raised before the attack. Continue, Clawstar."  
Clawstar inclined his head. "Thank you, Rapidstar. As I was saying. We laid a charge against SnowClan and it was recognized. Whether it was strong enough—well, you've made your own minds up about that, I can see. But to the real matter. SnowClan territory has lain vacant for nearly two seasons now, and I, Clawstar, leader of HollowClan, lay claim to it. I claim it, backed up by the First Amendment to the Second Code of the Warrior. When a Clan has defeated another in battle, they have earned the rights to claim the land of the loser."  
"That Amendment was intended for small parts of borderland! Not an entire territory," Hawkstar snarled.

"Not to mention the fact that to make the Amendment true, the Clans must have been fighting over that land in the first place," Shadowstar said more mildly. "I was under the impression that HollowClan attacked SnowClan in punishment for their trespasses."  
Deathstar's eyes darted over the other Clan leaders' faces, but she said nothing.  
Clawstar spoke with the barest hint of a hiss. "Then what would you have happen, Shadowstar? Leave a perfectly good piece of territory for the crows? SnowClan's land is rich in leaf-bare with prey that my Clan's kits need. I will not watch them starve when there is a food source nearby for them."  
Shadowstar's pale green eyes glinted. "What need do you have for SnowClan's skinny birds? Are not the branches of your trees so thick that snow does not fall and prey runs year-round? What has changed?"  
He leaned in towards her. "Are you accusing me of weakness?"

"Enough," Rapidstar said firmly. "There is a truce. We are here to discuss the future of SnowClan territory."  
Shadowstar gave him a sweet smile. "It appears to me, fellow Clan leaders, that Clawstar's so-called 'punishment' of SnowClan was merely an opportunity for him to gain more territory. Why would he kill every cat in the Clan? I know he _says _that the battle got out of paw, but we have no proof, only blood and corpses and two kits that have been absorbed into HollowClan."  
"We gave them mercy! They would have died with their mother if we had left them!" Clawstar raged.  
"Their mother?" Hawkstar snorted. "Do you expect us to believe that _she _fought you? She'd given birth two suns before!"

"_Enough!_" Rapidstar repeated more forcefully. "We bicker like kits. Shadowstar, what would you have done instead?"  
Shadowstar stepped forwards. "In accordance with the Second and Fourteenth Codes, I, Shadowstar of RainClan, claim the territory of SnowClan. HollowClan is an abomination to the warrior code. They have attacked and trespassed on another Clan's territory without warning or provocation. They have murdered needlessly and shed the blood of the truly innocent—queens, kits, elders. They should be driven out of the forests, never to return, but I do not think you would agree with me on that front. Therefore I say that in punishment we should renounce Clawstar's claim to the spoils and grant them to the only other territory that shares a border with SnowClan—RainClan."

Clawstar snarled viciously at this and actually dropped into a crouch, and all at once the cats of RainClan stood up. They were small and subtle by nature, so Twilightpaw had not realized how many of them were at the Gathering, but she now easily saw that they outnumbered the forces of any one Clan. She unsheathed her claws. She'd had some battle training, but would it be enough against seasoned warriors? Not to mention brutes like Redpaw?  
"We make mockery of StarClan!" protested a cat that she assumed was a medicine cat. "There is a truce!"

"I agree with Shadowstar," Hawkstar said swiftly. "HollowClan has not earned the right to the land. But any Clan who owns the SnowClan territory will gain an enormous advantage over the others. One of the reasons why five Clans were created in the first place was to ensure that our numbers would not grow too vast."  
Deathstar spoke for the first time in a deep, rasping tone. "If I am understanding Hawkstar correctly, he is suggesting that we do indeed leave SnowClan for the other wild things of the forest. And I am in agreement. Let StarClan decide the fate of the territory, and if it indeed belongs to anyone."  
"How will we enforce that?" Burningfur said dryly. "We don't share borders with SnowClan, so it's not like we can patrol."

"I suppose we shall have to depend on the honour of warriors," Deathstar replied, with a cynical tone. Her amber eyes flicked from one leader's face to another. "Is it agreed, then, that no warrior should hunt on SnowClan's land?"  
Shadowstar narrowed her eyes, but she simply said, "My word upon it, rogue."  
Clawstar hissed, but with the gaze of so many enemies upon him he at last bowed his head. "I will not hunt there. But this matter is far from finished. My kits will have fresh meat in leaf-bare, one way or another."

"Then this Gathering is adjourned, until next full moon," Rapidstar interjected before Shadowstar could reply to this. "Good hunting to all."  
"Yes," Deathstar said grimly, and she leaped off the pile of rocks and beckoned to her Clan with a tail.  
"Goodbye, then," Cloakedpaw told Twilightpaw. She nodded. "Interesting Gathering, hmmm?"  
Cloakedpaw didn't reply, trotting quickly to join the steady stream of his Clan.  
Suddenly feeling strangely lonely, Twilightpaw looked for her brother. She found him saying his goodbyes to his new apprentice friends.

"Do you think there's going to be a war?" she said as they merged with LightningClan.  
"Not yet," Valiantpaw replied. "Shadowstar promised she wouldn't hunt there, and Burningfur says she's honourable. Clawstar probably will, but as long as he isn't caught there won't be issues. I'd say that Clawstar will just keep hunting there as he's always done and think of new ways to legitimize his claims."  
"Probably," Twilightpaw agreed. Something nagged at her mind and she flashed a look at Valiantpaw. "Burningfur said? Since when do you talk to her? I thought you didn't like her."  
Valiantpaw looked away. "I don't. But Greyfire never teaches me about politics, so I have to ask someone."  
He quickened his pace to join his mentor, and Twilightpaw watched him go, wondering if that was in any way significant.


	11. Cloakedpaw

Over the past few weeks, Twilightpaw had discovered that she shared her mentor's hatred of mutants.  
It was not the deformities themselves that stirred her anger. It was that the cats who had them without fail refused to accept their existence, or passed it off as an old injury or just "something in their bloodline."  
It made her sick. Just the other day she had seen Whisperhunt carefully explaining to his son Wolfpaw that the reason why his voice was always so hoarse and that he had occasional trouble swallowing was because a warrior had hit him hard in the throat when he was younger.

"But he came off worse," Whisperhunt had said proudly.  
"Wow," Twilightpaw replied. "What battle was that? It must have been a really long time ago, because Moonpelt doesn't remember ever treating you for a broken throat."  
"This was before she became a medicine apprentice," Whisperhunt said hurriedly. "It was with…DarkClan."  
Even odder. Burningfur had told her that there were no recorded skirmishes with DarkClan since the leader before Rapidstar's predecessor. But by claiming it was the result of a fight, Whisperhunt avoided any possible stigma attached to the word _mutant._

__It made her stomach boil with rage. The only exception, apart from herself, was Missingclaw, who would regularly flaunt his lack of front claws in front of the Clan. In fact, she suspected he did it on purpose, as though to say, "Look! I'm a mutant and I lived to be an elder. That's more than most of you will be able to say."  
But if she was to be totally fair to all cats involved, she couldn't blame them. On a daily basis she was forced to ignore insults from the warriors, and, on occasion, Crimsonpaw and Wolfpaw. At best they were condescending.  
"Greyfire, Phantomfall, take your apprentices and do a quick sweep of the RainClan peninsula. I want to make sure there's no trouble from that end," Rapidstar had said one morning.  
"Can I go?" Twilightpaw had asked, excited at the thought of time with her only real friends.  
"I'm afraid not," he'd replied as though she were a newborn. "You see, you might slow the others down."

At worst they mocked her. For instance, just last night:  
"Hey, Twilightpaw, I'm surprised you haven't joined BrokenClan yet. Your tail would fit right in," Wolfpaw smirked. "And I hear mutated paws are all the rage in those ugly pine woods."  
Part of her knew that it wasn't entirely Wolfpaw's fault, that he was just openly parroting the things he'd heard his parents say since he was born. It didn't stop her from smashing his face into the dust as soon as there were no warriors around to see her. She'd only managed to get a few good blows in before his strength and experience bested her, though.  
She was infuriated with Burningfur, too. The morning after the Gathering she'd demanded the name of the she-cat who had brought her to the Clan. The deputy had given her a blank look in response.  
"What the hell! You promised!" Twilightpaw had snarled furiously.

"I promised I would tell you her name. I didn't say when," Burningfur replied with a smirk.  
Twilightpaw had tried to hit her in response, but Burningfur was too fast and just laughed as she walked away.  
So the morning after her fight with Wolfpaw she sat glaring at the rabbit she'd pulled out of the fresh-kill pile and simmered at the hypocrisy of the cats around her and cursed the Clan that kept its damned secrets so close.  
"Anyone can become angry, Twilightpaw—that is easy. But to be angry with the right cat and to the right degree at the right time and in the right way and for the right purpose—that is not within everyone's power, and isn't easy," her favourite hare warned her. "There are two things that you should never be angry at. What you can help, and what you can't."

It/he was an odd creature. Sometimes he was there, sometimes he wasn't, but she could always see him when she needed him. He was wise, but his wisdom frustrated her, and it usually wasn't very helpful. Such as at this moment.  
"By your arguments, I should never be angry at anyone ever."  
"Be angry all you want. Just express it in a place where there is no-one around to see or hear you."  
Twilightpaw turned the rabbit over with her paw. Using Missingclaw's "shortcuts" she no longer ran last in Scourings. That honour fell to Valiantpaw, who would usually just eat breakfast anyway. Greyfire didn't seem to know what to do with her foster-brother, who by all accounts was excelling at his training but seemed to have little motivation for it. No-one could make him do anything he didn't want to do. He'd been supposedly "punished" many times but had always just disappeared before anyone could enforce the punishment onto him and wouldn't return until his misdemeanours were forgotten. He never offered to go on patrols or hunts, and didn't spend much time with any of the apprentices other than Twilightpaw and, less frequently, Longpaw. The two toms tended to ruffle each other's fur due to their different attitudes on life, but they never openly argued.

Longpaw was pretty much the polar opposite of Valiantpaw. He was dedicated and focussed in his training, always trying to run faster, fight harder, climb higher. He had to be the best. His competitiveness got on Twilightpaw's nerves sometimes. For the sake of their friendship, though, she always held her tongue when he was showing off.  
And, like usual, Twilightpaw was in between them. She wanted to prove herself to the Clan but she didn't want to have her life forced into the dreary pattern of the hundreds of warriors that had gone before her. She extended herself just enough to win Burningfur's silence—a task that was becoming harder of late—and no further.  
"That rabbit would do more good inside your belly, you know," Burningfur remarked as she emerged from the warriors' den.

Twilightpaw ignored her and shoved it back in the pile.  
"Oh, I see. We've decided to take a sudden maturity plunge. Good to know." The deputy carefully picked the rabbit out of the pile and ate it in neat bites. When she finished, she fixed a hard stare on Twilightpaw. "I hear you've been fighting."  
Burningfur knew everything that was going on in the Clan. With one exception. She still hadn't noticed that part of her strange clump of fur was gone. By tacit agreement, Twilightpaw and Valiantpaw had never talked about it, and though she speculated to herself, she could come up with no real answers as to why cold, distant Burningfur would have a tom's fur in her nest.  
"He deserved it," Twilightpaw said at last.  
"Perhaps," Burningfur said, standing up. "But at this stage of your training, if you fight with an older apprentice, you will lose. If it keeps happening, they will think you are weak."  
"So what do I do, then?" Twilightpaw asked with a hint of sarcasm.

The ginger she-cat ignored it. "When a cat makes you angry, there are two ways you should deal with them. You should either forgive them or forget them. I don't forgive, and I am angered so often throughout the course of the sun that if I forgave them all I wouldn't have time to do anything else. So I forget. It makes things easier for everyone. Forget Wolfpaw. He is beneath you." She sniffed. "And a mutant besides."  
"He…is?" Twilightpaw's eyes widened.  
"Four of his teeth are missing. Not through accident or malnutrition. They just never grew. But don't try and figure out why he mocks others to hide his own insecurities. It doesn't make sense to me, either."  
"I'll just have to become better than the rest of them, then," Twilightpaw sighed.  
"Do that, and they will despise you more." She gestured with her tail. "But if you want to begin with some battle training, I will acquiesce."

Twilightpaw took the hint and stood up, following her mentor out of the camp and towards the patch of heather that formed the LightningClan training grounds.  
"Any word on SnowClan territory?" she asked hopefully as they went.  
"Nothing as of yet. I spoke with a RainClan patrol last night. HollowClan has not been scented in SnowClan lands. That, in and of itself, is…odd."  
"Clawstar did promise that he would stay away," Twilightpaw pointed out.  
Burningfur furrowed her brow. "He has never been noted for keeping his promises, and especially not when the only other Clan who might be able to prove that he isn't is one that could be marked as having a bias. No, to me this suggests he has other plans."

"But what can he do?" Twilightpaw asked. "He's bordered by BrokenClan, and Hawkstar doesn't trust him as much as he could throw him. And I'd like to see how far that is."  
"Hawkstar is a coward," Burningfur growled. "He'll be against Clawstar only as long as there are other Clan leaders to back him. BrokenClan is weak at the moment. They've had a harsh leaf-bare, and from what I hear, very few kits made it to newleaf."  
"But why would he antagonize HollowClan, then?" Twilightpaw said, puzzled. "If Clawstar gets really angry with him, he'll find some reason to attack BrokenClan. That could destroy them."

Burningfur paused for a moment, before saying, "Stupidity talks, vanity acts." She stopped in the clearing and turned to face her apprentice. "Today we will practise the headbutt move. As a she-cat, you'll often come up against warriors that are larger than you, so you'll need to find a way to either remove their height advantage or turn it to your own. This is just one of the ways." She straightened up. "For the sake of example, I will be the smaller cat. Attack me."  
Twilightpaw tightened her muscles and shot forwards with a paw. A moment before she reached her mentor, Burningfur pushed back on her hind legs and slammed her head into Twilightpaw's chest. The force from the headbutt was powerful enough to send Twilightpaw flying, but even as she crashed into the dirt she knew that Burningfur was undoubtedly holding back.

"One of the best parts of this move is its versatility," Burningfur lectured as Twilightpaw climbed to her feet, shaking out her pelt. "If you're facing a warrior from the front, you can use it to knock them away from you and then finish them with a bite of your choosing. But if, for instance, you were attacked from the side…" she leaped forwards and bunched the muscles in the left half of her body to push sideways and ram her head into the air "…you can crack ribs. And—depending on your strength and ability to reason during dangerous situations—if an enemy is on top of you, you can ram their belly or even their throat. That's much harder, as you need to anchor yourself using your foe's weight. It requires excellent timing and, as I've said, immense power. I highly doubt you'd be able to manage it."  
"Well, we won't know until we try," Twilightpaw growled. She backed up a few steps. "Come at me, then."

Burningfur lunged forwards with blinding speed, so fast that she was practically a blur. Twilightpaw jumped forwards and smashed her head into her mentor's chest. It was like ramming a tree, as much from the hardness and the pain it caused her as well as the fact that Burningfur did not move an inch.  
"Timing, Twilightpaw," Burningfur sighed. "Remember, energy is neither created nor destroyed, only transformed. Transform the energy from my charge into your strength. Use my weight and power as a lever."  
Twilightpaw had no idea what that meant, but she shook her aching head and stood her ground.  
When Burningfur leaped at her again, Twilightpaw briefly glimpsed what she meant. Before the older she-cat reached her, there were certain moments in her running gait where her two front paws were off the ground. If she could just headbutt her mentor at one of those times—  
WHAM.  
She'd thought too long, and Burningfur collided into her with all the force of a shining monster. The world flashed black and gold for a few moments as she lay there, stunned. There was blood in the back of her throat—she'd bitten her tongue.

Burningfur rolled her eyes and moved back. "If you aren't going to try the move," she said acidly, "at least make some attempt to stop yourself from being put into a coma."  
Slowly Twilightpaw rolled to her feet and spat blood, trying to remove the metallic taste. Blood from prey tasted delicious, but there was something in the blood of the predator that made it awful and almost unpalatable.  
"Come on," she said in a monotone. "I want to try again."  
The ginger deputy tilted her head. "Do you require medical assistance?"  
"No."  
Burningfur charged, and Twilightpaw crouched and waited, and waited, until the hare by her side suddenly cried "Now!"  
The brown tabby sprang upwards and her head hit Burningfur's chest, but unlike last time there was not four and a half kilos of muscle and bone crashing down on her. Twilightpaw wrenched her neck upwards and was rewarded with a grunt as Burningfur landed several fox-lengths away from her apprentice. She was up on her paws quickly.

"Good," she said. "Much better."  
"You didn't go very far," Twilightpaw said doubtfully.  
"Because I'm heavy and because you're weak. I can't lose weight, but you can get stronger. Practise lifting things in your mouth. Build up your neck and leg muscles. That's another reason for the Scourings." Twilightpaw flushed under her fur but held her mentor's gaze steadily. If Burningfur hadn't wanted her to cheat she wouldn't have pointed her in that direction.  
"Can we try again?" she asked instead.  
"For a while. Then we need to patrol the DarkClan border. I want to find a warrior and see if they know anything."

"They don't border SnowClan or HollowClan." Twilightpaw was confused.  
"No, but they do border RainClan, and I have no doubt that they'll have picked up on things there that our small scrubland friends have neglected to tell us."  
Twilightpaw paused. "Burningfur," she hesitated, "do you trust anyone?"  
"Of course not," came the acerbic reply. "I have common sense. Even if you don't _think _they'll betray you—why take the risk?"  
"That seems kind of…lonely," Twilightpaw risked.  
"Lonely? What's that? I don't need the companionship of others to feel complete." Yet her words rang hollow to her apprentice's ears. The fur in Burningfur's nest told a different story. Once upon a time, there had been a tom that was important to her. Where was he now? Dead? It wasn't unknown for cats to take mementoes of their deceased mates, though it was a practise Twilightpaw found creepy in the extreme.

But she felt as though she was stepping onto thin ice, so she merely remained silent and practised the headbutt move with Burningfur for a while longer.  
At last, when her head was ringing so badly that sparkles were dancing across her eyes, her mentor called a halt. "DarkClan border, now."  
Twilightpaw obediently trailed after her, wandering over hill and dale and occasionally rubbing her head against the inside of her leg to clear it of the painful pressure. One of two things is going to happen, she mused to herself. Either I'm going to have the hardest head in LightningClan or I'll get brain damage. Either way.  
"Well, what do you know," Burningfur said in a tone heavy with irony. She drew to a halt.

They were on the DarkClan border, and Twilightpaw recognized Cloakedpaw with a jolt. He was crouched in the long grass of his territory and carefully stalking a mouse, tail almost horizontal. Burningfur brushed her pelt against a bush of bracken. The resulting sound caused the mouse to dart into the undergrowth, and Cloakedpaw spat a curse. He rounded on both of them, and Twilightpaw noticed that his accusatory glances were mainly directed at her. She deliberately began to walk noisily to annoy him.  
"You scared away my prey," he snapped.  
"Hang on," Twilightpaw began a pretence of searching through the bracken. "No, damn. I left my caring face at home."

Burningfur rapped a paw on the earth. "Where's your mentor, upstart?"  
The look he gave her would have bleached bones. "Not far. Why?"  
"Fetch him, or her," Burningfur replied calmly.  
"Why?"  
"No, it doesn't work like that, apprentice. You go and fetch your mentor before I get bored."  
Twilightpaw could see the thoughts whirling in his red eyes and she knew that if she was in his place she would have refused the order, just for the sake of it. In Cloakedpaw, however, was more like a traditional apprentice and the commandment of following older warriors' instructions was buried deep within him. At last, with an irritated huff, he disappeared into the trees and returned with a frowning tortoiseshell she-cat.  
"Burningfur," she said, "what is the meaning of this?" To Twilightpaw and Cloakedpaw she said, "Go play, little ones."

As both an apprentice and a kit Twilightpaw had always hated being told to play with other cats, especially ones she wasn't sure she liked. But from bitter experience she also knew that they weren't going to talk until they thought she wasn't going to listen in.  
"Well, we meet again," Cloakedpaw said resignedly. "Any news from your Clan?"  
"Nothing I'd discuss with an enemy Clan," she replied primly.  
"We aren't your enemies. We're ambiguous wardens."  
"My, you DarkClan warriors do think highly of yourselves, don't you?" Twilightpaw replied dryly, but despite herself she could not help but be impressed with his grasp of language. Words like _ambiguous _were tossed around between her and Valiantpaw all the time, but she hadn't thought any other apprentices knew them.

"I say it like I see it," he said, deadpan.  
"Well then, _warden, _what about you? What do you know about RainClan, etcetera?"  
Cloakedpaw shrugged his shoulders. "Precious little. Apart from the fact that they're planning an attack."  
"Oh, really?"  
"Don't you, like, share a border with them too?"  
"It's always best to get an outsider's perspective," Twilightpaw said, trying to copy her mentor's tone.  
Cloakedpaw eyed her oddly, but he only said, "They've stepped up battle training and there's been much less patrols on our border, which means they're hanging around the Forsaken Land border."  
"Forsaken Land… that's DarkClan's word for SnowClan?"

"It's _my _word for it," he corrected her. She got the idea that he didn't like being tied to his Clan. She felt likewise.  
"Hey," she said innocently, "at the Gathering a few weeks ago, when Deathstar announced herself as leader of your Clan, you didn't seem altogether happy about it."  
Cloakedpaw's red eyes landed firmly on her own. "I believe that there were other warriors there that would have made better leaders than her, and I am telling you this only because I can see that you have a different view on Clan loyalty than others."  
"I have no loyalty," she said bluntly. "I'd leave my Clan now, if I could."  
"You don't enjoy living here?"

"It's not that. It's that I don't want my future forced upon me. _I_ want to decide what I'm going to do, not a bunch of ancient warriors who'll never know I existed."  
"Then why don't you leave?"  
Twilightpaw paused, just for a few seconds, before saying, "Because there are some things I still need to find out, first."  
"Like your mother?" he asked.  
Twilightpaw flinched and stared at him. "How do you know that?"  
"Because I wanted to know the same thing. My father was a Clan cat but my mother was a Twolegkit*.She died a few suns after I was born, so he took me to the Clan. Me, that is, not my sisters." Bitterness rang out in his voice.

"I didn't know any of this until I asked him who my mother was. He wouldn't tell me, so I found out on my own. I snuck out of camp one night when I was about five moons old."  
"Wow," she whispered. "Weren't you scared?"  
Cloakedpaw gave her a long look that could have meant anything. "No," was all he said. "I thought that she was a she-cat from another Clan. So I figured I would go to the Clan borders to try and find a cat who smelt a little like me. But I went in the wrong direction and ended up wandering around a forest of Twoleg dens that stank like a cave full of rats. That's when I saw her. Deathheart."  
"Your—your new Clan leader?" Twilightpaw was stunned.

"Exactly," he replied. "I saw her, covered in blood and darkness in the middle of the night. I saw her, and she saw me. At first, I thought she would kill me, so I asked if she knew my mother.  
" "That fat tabby Twolegkit?" she said scornfully. "The poor fool's dead, I'm afraid. Run over by a shining monster." And it was just the way she said it—like she thought it was funny—that made me hate her. I didn't say anything else, but she threatened to cut out my tongue if I ever told anyone that she had been in Twoleg territory. So I promised, and I went home, and I got into trouble and had my ceremony delayed by a half-moon and I never said anything to anyone. Until now."  
"Was it worth it?" Twilightpaw asked softly. "Finding out who your mother was?"

"Yes and no," he said. "It hurt me. I was never truly happy again, after that moment. I knew then that my mother was the laughing-stock of the Clan and that I was guilty by association. I knew then that the cats who I had thought cared about me actually hated me and wished I was far away. I was angry for a long, long time. I'm angry still, and they know it, so they avoid me. The queens teach their kits to stay away." He fixed his crimson eyes on hers. "But I know what I am now. And I know that I don't owe my Clan anything, anything at all. And I know my path. I am going to be a warrior and I am going to change things. I am going to do as much as I can to make the lives of mutants and misfits easier. And if I ever become a Clan leader, I am going to propose a law saying that no Clan cat has the right to take a kit from its mother, even if he is the father."

Twilightpaw was silent for a while, stunned by his sudden outburst of emotion. He seemed to sense that and brushed his forehead against his foreleg.  
"My mind is different. I see and hear things that aren't there," she said finally, glancing at Burningfur to make sure that her mentor was still in conversation. Cloakedpaw seemed unperturbed by her revelation, and she wondered again exactly what his mutation was. "When I grow up, I'm going to track down my mother and see if it's a mutation or if it's something that can be helped—maybe even cured. I'm going to know exactly where I came from and why she couldn't look after me. I know she isn't dead. I can feel it, inside me. After that, I'm not sure. I don't really want to stay in LightningClan because there's nothing for me there, but I don't think I could leave my brother and my friend. I love them both."

"Would they go with you?"  
Twilightpaw thought about this. Would Longpaw and Valiantpaw leave with her, if she asked them?  
Valiantpaw would, she decided, for he disliked Clan life almost as much as she did, but with a pang she knew that Longpaw wouldn't. He wasn't introverted like they were; he wasn't, to use Burningfur's term, complete on his own. He needed more than two cats in his life. But Twilightpaw wasn't sure if she would be complete without them both. They were the only two cats in the world who accepted her purely on her own terms and loaned her strength when she couldn't find any in herself.  
"I don't know," she said at last.  
Cloakedpaw nodded as though this were a reasonable answer. "Well, if you really hate it in your Clan, you could always join mine when you're a warrior," he said. "Nobody there would know that you weren't Clanborn."

Twilightpaw considered this. Life in DarkClan? She glanced at the trees in front of her, and again breathed in the lovely scent of water and leaves. It was possible…  
"The answers to my questions can only be found in my Clan, I think," she murmured.  
"Fair enough," the black tom said. "Well, I'll help you find your mother any way I can."  
Twilightpaw flinched. "Seriously?"  
"Yep. Maybe I'll hear things you don't. Outsider's perspective, and all that." He paused for a moment, then, with the air of a medicine cat performing a sacred ritual, he added, "I promise."  
Twilightpaw felt a pang of guilt. She made promises all the time, and rarely kept them unless they applied to someone she cared about. At the same time she couldn't help but smile at his strange innocence. He genuinely believed he could help her. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that.  
"Twilightpaw," Burningfur called out, having at last finished with Cloakedpaw's mentor. "Let's go."  
Twilightpaw climbed to her paws and trotted away without so much as a backwards glance to the strange tom who, perhaps, had just become her friend.

Another tom, she thought with mild amusement. Why always toms? Why couldn't she connect with other she-cats? She'd seen them, giggling in groups, eyeing off toms, and felt as removed from them as the moon from the earth.  
She and Burningfur walked in silence for a time, but when they were about halfway home her mentor drew to a halt, ears pricked. Twilightpaw listened too, and faintly she heard someone call the deputy's name.  
"Over here!" Burningfur roared in response, and sprayed a quick marker that produced so much scent Twilightpaw had to take a few steps backwards.

At least it brought the patrol towards them quickly. There were three of them: Lilacbreeze, Flywing and Crimsonpaw.  
"Thank StarClan! We thought we'd never find you," Flywing panted. "You've got to come back to camp, right now."  
The desperation in her voice sent chills down Twilightpaw's spine. "What happened?" she asked, feeling certain that something terrible had happened.  
Lilacbreeze replied. "It's HollowClan," she said grimly. "They've stolen kits from BrokenClan and RainClan."  
Burningfur's eyes widened.  
"But that's not the worst of it," continued the beautiful she-cat, "Clawstar says that unless his Clan is given SnowClan territory, he'll murder them all by sunset tomorrow."

*a kittypet.


	12. Before the Storm

**Moon of the Scented Hills, 25****th**** Sun**

"What's going on?" Burningfur demanded as soon as they reached camp.  
Rapidstar turned his head slowly to face them, his amber eyes dark and grim. "Kits have been stolen from both RainClan and BrokenClan."  
"How do you know for certain that it was Clawstar?" the deputy said harshly.  
A tabby-and-white she-cat with the scent of pine needles heavy in her fur answered the question. "A HollowClan scent marker was found in our nursery, right in the kits' nest. We tracked the trail directly to the border between BrokenClan and HollowClan. Venomfang awaited us there, and told us that if we ever hoped to see our kits again we would support HollowClan's claim for the territory of SnowClan."

"Who's Venomfang?" Twilightpaw whispered to no-one in particular. Valiantpaw drew alongside her, his mahogany fur bristling with excitement. "HollowClan deputy."  
"It was the same with RainClan." The ginger speaker's voice was calm, but Twilightpaw could scent his fear. "We never saw them. Our camp is ringed with thick brambles, our nursery especially so. A HollowClan warrior destroyed the back of our nursery—removed the brambles—and took three kits. I hope he dies of infection from his cuts." His lip curled with vehemence. "Clawstar was at the end of our trail, and informed Shadowstar that he would make a claim for the territory of SnowClan tomorrow in a Daylight Gathering that he would call, and that if we wanted our kits home safe we would not voice any objection. No doubt your isolation is the only thing that defended your nursery," he added to Rapidstar, who nodded slowly.

"Flyingfeather," Moonpelt asked the tabby BrokenClan deputy, who flicked her ears towards the medicine cat, "how did HollowClan break into your nursery?"  
"That…is not important." Flyingfeather spoke with hesitation.  
"But I can guess," Burningfur said. "It is common knowledge that your territory is prey-poor at this time of year. Did Hawkstar send out all the warriors to hunt, and neglected to guard the camp?"  
Twilightpaw expected Flyingfeather to spit at her mentor, but the she-cat merely bowed her head, betraying the depths of her guilt and shame. "Our Clan is hungry, Burningfur, and our numbers are not great," she said in weak defence of her leader.  
Rapidstar spoke. "What would you have us do?"

The ginger tom, the RainClan deputy, straightened up. "My leader asked me to make a formal proposition on her behalf. A warrior mission, as it were. She wishes to ally RainClan and LightningClan and march on HollowClan to rescue our kits."  
"But not BrokenClan, Risingsun?" Flyingfeather said bitterly.  
"If we had known your kits were stolen, we would have asked you, too," he said gently. He turned back to Rapidstar. "If BrokenClan joins us, so much the better."  
Rapidstar's eyes glimmered. "Why should we trust RainClan? You wanted the Forsaken Clan's territory for yourself, and you didn't get it. Are you perhaps looking for other ways to expand your land?"

Risingsun choked back on a hiss. "If it weren't for the fact that I come in peace, I would tear out your tongue for such an insult," he said proudly. "RainClan does not deal in trickery. We have no need to. Our strength comes from our ancestral memories, that stretch back to the settlement of the Clans when the starving knights came from the mountains following a dream and the words of Mitternacht." He was met with blank stares. "I don't expect you to understand. Know this, then—if you accept our offer, that makes us allies and brothers in war. Any treachery would be seen as the ultimate crime under the eyes of StarClan."

Risingsun was clever, Twilightpaw thought mildly. He knew that appealing to Rapidstar's zealotry would get him further than any other approach. Or had the idea come from Shadowstar?  
RainClan had long been known as the Keepers of the Past. Unlike other cats, they had unusually long and powerful memories, and seemed to remember things not just from their own lives but from that of their ancestors. Some dismissed this and claimed it was merely good storytelling from a Clan that usually had many elders, but others—Moonpelt and Valiantpaw among them—believed that there really was something different about the RainClan mind and that it had its origins in the brain of Rainstar who had once been Raincloud.  
This struck her like a bolt of lightning. If their thought processes were truly different from other cats, if they truly recalled things from other lives, they would be certain to know if her own mind was a mutation or merely something that happened from time to time. All she'd have to do was find a RainClan cat who wouldn't ask too many questions.

Shiverpaw, she decided, and felt something settle in her stomach. The she-cat had been nice enough, if a little grim and taciturn, and she seemed intelligent. Silently she prayed to whoever might be listening above or below that Rapidstar would agree to the alliance.  
At last Rapidstar nodded. "HollowClan has broken the warrior code. I can't stand back and let them hurt kits." He glanced at Flyingfeather. "Would BrokenClan stand with us?"  
Flyingfeather swallowed. "I don't…don't have the authority to make that decision."  
Burningfur's eyes narrowed. "Then why did Hawkstar send you? Surely not just to announce your weakness?"  
The deputy looked down, and Twilightpaw said, "Hawkstar didn't send you, did he? You came without telling him. You thought we would get your kits back for you."

"You don't know what it's like with him!" Flyingfeather burst out. "He's so obsessed with looking strong in front of the other Clans that he's actually making us weak. Those kits were the final straw. He told Venomfang that BrokenClan wouldn't appear at the Daylight Gathering but that they agreed to his proposal. I…I couldn't let it happen. Hawkstar doesn't understand. Even if we do everything that Clawstar says, he'll still kill the kits. Two less warriors for us, after all."  
"You went behind your Clan leader's back," Rapidstar said with the faintest hint of a growl. He shot a look at Burningfur, who merely twitched her tail.  
Risingsun interjected, perhaps feeling embarrassed on the beleaguered deputy's behalf. "Two Clans should still be a match for HollowClan. We'll get your kits back, Flyingfeather, don't worry."  
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. Then Burningfur spoke. "What about DarkClan?"

"I doubt they've had kits stolen," Moonpelt said. "They don't share a border with HollowClan and their camp would be well-guarded."  
"Would they join our cause?" Burningfur said. "Two Clans won't be enough. We would defeat HollowClan easily, but that isn't the aim of our mission. As soon as Clawstar sees an enemy warrior, those kits are dead. We could have one Clan lure them out of their camp and another try and save the kits before he slits their throats, but it would be risky for the Clan who fights HollowClan. They'll be outnumbered, because undoubtedly they would leave some warriors at home to guard the camp." Her eyes were veiled with cynicism.

"Why would DarkClan help us if their kits haven't been taken?" Rapidstar said coldly.  
"Perhaps for the same reasons we're helping?" Moonpelt offered. "Honour, compassion, and loyalty to the code?"  
_I saw her, covered in blood and darkness. _Cloakedpaw's words echoed through Twilightpaw's mind. She couldn't fit that image of Deathstar with honour and compassion.  
"Deathstar is a rogue," Rapidstar growled. "Unlikely to hold the same values as us."  
"It's worth a try," Burningfur said. "Even if they don't care about missing kits, they won't agree to giving HollowClan the territory of SnowClan. Deathstar was very clear on that point. DarkClan is a strong Clan, and they have no need to hide behind words." She did not look at Flyingfeather, but Twilightpaw saw the BrokenClan deputy's shadow turn away in embarrassment.

Risingsun cleared his throat. "I see no issues with at least asking DarkClan. If they refuse, we lose nothing. If they join us, we are certain of victory."  
Twilightpaw suddenly felt a thrill in her gut, picturing a huge rush of warriors descending on HollowClan, who seemed small and terrified in her vision. She pictured herself, heroically defeating a powerful warrior through sheer talent alone. Perhaps she would save the life of a Clan deputy or even a leader. Maybe she would even save the kits! Rapidstar wouldn't mock her then.  
The hare chuckled softly to itself. She shot it a glare.  
"Very well, then," Rapidstar sighed. "Risingsun, Flyingfeather and I will go to DarkClan and speak to Deathstar. Burningfur, you are in charge while I am gone." He nodded to the other deputies, who followed him out of the camp entrance.

Longpaw paced up and down by the Lightningridge. "I don't see why we have to do all this talk. Why don't we just go in and get the kits now? We're running out of time!"  
"Patience," Burningfur rumbled. "Clawstar won't lay a paw on those kits until he gets what he wants. We know he'll ask for a Daylight Gathering sometime tomorrow and he won't kill the kits until after that, so we do, in fact, have some time."  
"Will HollowClan send a messenger?" Valiantpaw asked. Burningfur slowly turned her head to meet his gaze. "Probably. But I doubt they will mention the kits."  
"So what do we do now while we wait? Twiddle our paws?" Twilightpaw asked.  
Burningfur was already walking away, and glanced over her shoulder to reply. "If you're bored, you could go hunting. Take a few of your friends with you. A warrior would be even better."

"I'll go," Longpaw said at once. Valiantpaw demurred a few moments later. "I don't want to miss anything," he said.  
"You won't. We'll hunt by the DarkClan border. Soon as they step back into our ground, we can find out before anyone else," Twilightpaw replied.  
"Okay, then," he said. "Do we really have to bring a warrior with us? They'll breathe down our necks each time we stalk a rabbit."  
Twilightpaw shuddered. "No, we do not. Come on."

Longpaw looked doubtful. "What if Clawstar wants leverage over LightningClan? He could kidnap us pretty easily if we're out here on our own."  
"No, they couldn't. HollowClan cats are all dark-coloured to fit in with the shadows in their territory; they'd stand out against the heather and grass. We'd see them from ages away," Valiantpaw said impatiently. "But if you're too scared…" He left the dare hanging.  
Longpaw stiffened. "No. Let's go."  
He led them onto the moor and towards the DarkClan border, but before they'd gotten far they were intercepted by Crimsonpaw and Wolfpaw. Both of them shimmered with resentment, and Twilightpaw could vaguely understand why. They were supposed to have their warrior ceremonies at sunhigh, which was roughly now, but naturally enough it had been postponed due to current events. Anyone would be disappointed, but in her mind it didn't make sense to get so annoyed about it. By sunset tomorrow, one way or the other, this would all be solved. They wouldn't have to wait for more than a few suns.

But angry they were, and a younger, weaker, mutated apprentice who hadn't quite found her place in the Clan was an easy target for that.  
"Where are you off to?" Crimsonpaw asked in an icily polite tone. As Twilightpaw was at the back of her friends' party, Wolfpaw walked behind her to close off her one way of escape.  
"Hunting," Twilightpaw said as mildly as she could, internally surveying the odds of a fight. If it came to it, it would be a fairly even one; they were older, but Longpaw was just as good as them in battle training and he was bigger. Besides, on the eve of a real battle and their ceremonies, she doubted that they would risk getting into trouble and facing a Swallowing.  
Feeling more secure, she added, "What about you?"  
Wolfpaw leaned in close. "We're going to practise our battle moves with Burningfur. You know, so Rapidstar will be certain to pick us as the apprentices in the battle."

Twilightpaw rolled her eyes. "Idiot. They'll take all of us. None of us have any battle experience and that's vital for becoming a warrior."  
"Sure, that's what you think," Wolfpaw purred. "But sometimes there can be apprentices who are...well, there's just no other way to say it…burdens on the cats around them. Mutants, in particular." Twilightpaw felt her rage build at his blatant hypocrisy. She noticed what she should have realized moons ago; that Wolfpaw rarely opened his mouth wide enough for another cat to see his teeth.  
"Honestly, I can't see why I would be left behind. I've got all my claws…and teeth," she said sweetly. "I know how to fight well enough. Apprentices younger than me have fought in battles. Just ask your father about his infamous battle with DarkClan that no-one else can remember."

Valiantpaw and Longpaw said nothing, but their eyes were fixed on the two older apprentices. They wouldn't defend her verbally; she didn't want them to try. But if it came to blows, they would help her in an instant.  
Crimsonpaw attacked with different tactics. "Do you know where Burningfur is?" It might have been a normal question but she was still speaking in that cold, frosty tone.  
"No. In camp—"  
"What about Moonpelt?"  
"No, but—"  
"Any of the senior warriors?"  
"Scattered somewhere. Why—"  
"What, exactly, is your purpose here?"

"You know, that's never really been made clear to me. Do you mind? We've got kits and elders to feed while you stand there with your idiot brother and feel sorry for yourselves because you might have to wait _two freaking suns _to become a warrior. Go suck up to Burningfur if you want. She'll see through it, though, so I don't think you'll get far. You know, maybe if you were just better apprentices, you might have been warriors long—" she closed her mouth hurriedly, knowing at once that she'd gone too far.  
Crimsonpaw and Wolfpaw unsheathed their claws and advanced on her, but as they did so both Longpaw and Valiantpaw let out long, rumbling snarls and stepped forwards. The older cats stopped and exchanged glances.

"C'mon," Wolfpaw muttered. "This isn't worth it. Not over a _runt._" He started walking away; Crimsonpaw followed.  
"Cowards," Twilightpaw said, but quietly. She didn't really want a fight, either.  
Once they were out of sight, Longpaw let out a big sigh. "For StarClan's sake, Twilightpaw, you've got a bigger mouth on you than a wolverine! Why couldn't you have just ignored them?"  
"Because it doesn't work," she snapped, stung.  
"But _why _did you have to tell them that they were bad apprentices? If we weren't there, they would have torn you to pieces!"

"But it's true. They are bad. Most cats their age would have been warriors a moon ago. Even Greenpaw at the Gathering said so."  
"Yes, well, right or wrong, there are things that you think and things that you say, and you have a tendency to mix them up a lot." He flashed that to her behind narrow eyes, and she knew that he wasn't just talking about insulting Crimsonpaw and Wolfpaw.  
Valiantpaw interjected. "Calm down, there's no harm done. Once Crimsonpaw and Wolfpaw are warriors they'll forget about this completely."  
Twilightpaw drew a line in the dirt with her claw. "I get that crap from Wolfpaw all the time and I've said worse things to him without anything happening. But I never thought that Crimsonpaw would start. I mean, she's said things, but she's never really meant them."

Valiantpaw shrugged. "She's angry about missing her ceremony and jealous of her mother. I think this would be a one-time thing."  
"Jealous of her mother? Lilacbreeze? Why?"  
"Well, you know how Crimsonpaw's had a crush on Runningflash, like, forever?"  
Twilightpaw hadn't, actually, but Longpaw nodded.  
"Well, I have it on very good authority that Lilacbreeze is carrying his kits." He said that with a grin, enjoying the scandal.  
Longpaw exhaled sharply. "No wonder she's pissed. Imagine competing for a tom with your own mother."

Twilightpaw, who had very little patience for gossip and even less for finding out what made other cats work, had another question. "Very good authority? Whose, exactly?"  
Valiantpaw eyed her.  
"It wouldn't happen to be Burningfur, would it?"  
He kept his face blank. "No."  
Longpaw had missed the significance of this exchange. "Hey, are we going to the border or not? Rapidstar will definitely be in DarkClan by now. He could come out at any time."  
Twilightpaw nodded reluctantly and began to follow Longpaw again.  
Despite their eagerness to get to the DarkClan border, they did do some hunting. Twilightpaw caught a leveret that had been separated from its mother while Longpaw's height served him well when he caught two of the small moor sparrows that tended to flit around areas of high insect activity. Valiantpaw dug up a mouse nest and returned to them with two small bodies hanging from his jaws.

They picked up Rapidstar's scent trail when they neared the scraggly trees that marked the border. Cats were creatures of habit, so they knew that he was likely to return to the same place he came out of. Longpaw cast a critical eye over their catch. "That won't feed more than two cats."  
"We can catch more on the way back," Twilightpaw pointed out. She was quite proud of her leveret, for while it didn't have the speed and cunning of an adult hare, it had been hard to track and catch nonetheless.  
"Or we could catch more now, and one of us could wait here and call to the others once they show up," Valiantpaw suggested, rubbing his nose with his paw.

"I'll hunt," Twilightpaw suggested instantly. Although she wanted to be the first to hear the news, keeping still for any period of time did not appeal to her. Only DarkClan and HollowClan cats remained motionless when hunting.  
"So will I," Valiantpaw said, more mildly.  
Longpaw settled down in the dirt. "Don't come back until either I've called you or you've got too much prey to carry," he said.  
"Yes, Clan leader," Twilightpaw replied mockingly and pushed her way through a clump of long grass to return to the moor. She didn't realise that Valiantpaw had followed her until she noticed his shadow. Like Burningfur's, it had little of the energy that a shadow usually had, and seemed content to plod alongside its master.  
"I wish you would talk to me," Twilightpaw said without turning her head. "I'm your sister. I can keep secrets."  
"You've never kept a secret before."  
"Not true. I never told anyone about that fur you stole from the warriors' den. I keep my friends' secrets."  
"And I've never told anyone about your fits, either."

Twilightpaw snorted bitterly. "That's hardly a secret anymore. I'd be surprised if there was a cat in the Clan who didn't know about that, the way Dreamcloud spreads rumours."  
Valiantpaw was quiet for a few moments before speaking. "Remember when we were kits, and I went to steal that furball, but I didn't tell you about it right away?"  
"Of course."  
"It's like that. It doesn't affect you, and I'll explain it to you eventually. Just maybe not for a while. Not until it's done."  
Twilightpaw flicked his ear affectionately. "You promise?"  
"I promise," he said. But there was nothing of the serious solemnity that Cloakedpaw had put into his words, as though he had been accepting a sacred trust. Valiantpaw said it quite casually, and she knew that if it didn't suit him he wouldn't keep it. She was the same way. She had thought of Cloakedpaw as dark, naïve, and somewhat unstable, but there was probably more good in him than she and her brother put together.  
"We aren't nice cats, are we, Valiantpaw?" she mused, thinking aloud. "I don't even think I could be kind if I tried."

"Oh, you're good enough, Twilightpaw. You're just too suspicious. You see the drop of venom behind every sweet word. It comes with the territory of growing up with Silvertail as a parent and Burningfur as mentor." He paused for a few moments, and then said, "Do you ever find yourself disliking a cat as soon as you met them so that you never mind when they don't like you?"  
"Well, of course," she replied. "When I dislike a cat I stop caring about what they say. Thus it's easier to dislike everyone on first sight." She sighed. "But I liked Crimsonpaw. And Moonpelt."  
"Hmmph, Moonpelt. Funny bird, that she-cat. I see her watching me, sometimes, and it creeps me out. I wish I knew why she was so fascinated by me. It's not like she's attracted to me or anything…it's like she's trying to figure me out." Valiantpaw flicked a fly off Twilightpaw's shoulder with his tail.  
Twilightpaw did not want to talk about Moonpelt at all, and regretted bringing up the subject. "Maybe medicine cats do that to everyone and you're just smart enough to catch her. But are we getting some hunting done or not?"

Before he could respond Longpaw called out. "They're coming back!"  
Valiantpaw grumbled good-naturedly about the pointlessness of their exercise as they quickly trotted back to the border.  
"It appears we have a welcoming committee," Rapidstar said, Flyingfeather a few paces behind him. Risingsun had gone, probably to his own territory. Her leader wasn't smiling, but Twilightpaw didn't sense any anger from his shadow, so she asked, "Is DarkClan going to help us?"  
He appeared to consider holding out on telling them, but he relented. "Yes," he said briefly. "They will. But I hate repeating myself, so I'm not saying everything until we're back in camp. Which I hope you didn't sneak out of."

All three apprentices shook their heads. "We were hunting," Longpaw said, hastily scooping up the leveret to prove it. "Burningfur told us to."  
Rapidstar looked down at them. "You'd better come with me, then," he relented. "Take your prey and let's go."  
Twilightpaw fell in beside Flyingfeather, who was showing signs of weariness. She'd probably been walking all morning and still had quite a stretch to go before she reached her own territory. What kind of retribution would she invite when she did return to her Clan? She'd disobeyed her leader and gone behind his back to make deals with another Clan. Deputies had been stripped of their rank for less. She hoped that Hawkstar would see that Flyingfeather had only done what she'd thought was best, but in her heart Twilightpaw knew he wouldn't. Most warriors didn't believe that the end justified the means.

When they finally arrived at camp, they found practically every cat in the Clan clustered around the entrance, waiting for their return. Rapidstar pushed them away with his shoulders. "Burningfur, come into my den," he ordered, ignoring the senior warriors' questions. The ginger she-cat nodded and followed him into the tangle of bramble and heather that marked the leader's den.  
Flyingfeather seemed unsure of what she was supposed to do, so Twilightpaw helpfully said, "You should probably leave now. You'll be in enough trouble with your Clan already."  
The tabby sighed. "I suppose a thank-you was too much to expect from LightningClan," she muttered before relenting and pushing her way through the bramble entrance of their camp.  
"Why should we have thanked her?" Twilightpaw grumbled as she rejoined her friends. "We didn't ask her to betray her Clan."

"It's hardly betrayal," Longpaw said, grooming a clump of fur on his shoulder.  
"I doubt Hawkstar will see it that way," Valiantpaw drawled.  
A furball bumped up against Twilightpaw's leg. She casually pushed Cloudkit away. "Go bother your mother."  
"We want to find out what DarkClan said. We know that's where you went," he replied. Twilightpaw glanced down at him, as surprised by his intelligence as she was by his size. She hadn't paid much attention to the kits in recent moons—Dreamcloud didn't like it when she was around them—so she had not noticed his sudden growth spurt. He was nearly level with her shoulder.  
"Hey," she said, "when are you two going to be apprentices?" She addressed that question to Skykit, who, as always, was slightly hidden behind her more boisterous brother. She had grown, too, but it was apparent that she would always be a small cat. Moonpelt had confirmed that the she-kit was indeed short-sighted—bad news for a prospective warrior.  
"It may not be a mutation, though," she'd quickly assured the outraged mother. "It's a common enough problem."

"DarkClan said that they'll help us. But we don't know the full story," she replied to Cloudkit. "Hey, you two are six moons, right? When are you going to have your ceremony?"  
A shadow flitted across Cloudkit's face. "It was supposed to be today," he said at last. "After Crimsonpaw and Wolfpaw's warrior naming. But I guess that's been forgotten about now."  
"Rapidstar will hold the ceremony in a day or two. StarClan knows we'll probably need all the claws we can get over the next few moons," she assured him.  
"But then why doesn't he name us now?" Cloudkit protested. "I can fight, and I want to help save the kits!"  
Twilightpaw remembered with a sudden sting of apprehension how easily Wolfpaw had managed to defeat her. "You'd be torn to pieces, I'm afraid," she said. "If Clawstar didn't just kidnap you. But something tells me that there'll be more battles to come. You'll get your chance."

"I don't mind waiting," Skykit said, drawing her tail around herself.  
"That's because you're practically already Moonpelt's apprentice," Cloudkit replied. "The only thing that'll change for you is your name."  
Twilightpaw touched the small kit's ear with her tail. "You're going to become a medicine cat? Congratulations."  
"Yeah, kudos," Longpaw said. "Tough job. You know Moonpelt almost never leaves camp except to gather herbs once a week."  
"I know," she replied softly. "I hate fighting but I still want to serve my Clan, and this is the only way that I can get around that." She looked down. "I'm not entirely sure if I want to be a medicine cat. I hate the smells of blood and vomit and I don't like hurting cats, even if it helps them."  
Twilightpaw's heart went out to the little one. "Well, when you get your full name you can join RainClan," she said. "There you could be a Child of the Dark and never have to look at an injured cat."

Skykit shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe," was all she said.  
"Cats of LightningClan!" Rapidstar's powerful voice echoed through the camp. "Gather under the Lightningridge, if you will."  
"_If you will?_" Valiantpaw mocked, and Twilightpaw held back a giggle. All of them settled underneath the Ridge and waited for their leader's pronouncement.  
"Cats of LightningClan, I'm sure there aren't any among you who are unaware of our predicament. Kits from two Clans have been stolen in gross violation of the code and it is our duty as sworn warriors to fight for their safe return. To do that, we must set aside old grievances and join forces with RainClan and DarkClan."

"What about BrokenClan?" a warrior called out.  
Rapidstar swept his gaze across them. "It is unlikely that BrokenClan will join us," he said. "There will be a reckoning for his failure to act, also, but it will be without bloodshed and of no concern to warriors. Regardless of BrokenClan's misdeeds, their kits are innocent, so we shall return them as well.  
"Now, I am expecting a HollowClan cat sometime in the afternoon, probably to give us an edited and untruthful version of what we all know. In short, we will be told to meet at a Daylight Gathering at sunhigh tomorrow. If Clawstar's demands are not agreed to, the kits die. I won't let that happen." There were growls of assent.  
_Get on with it, _Twilightpaw thought.

"So in terms of the actual rescue. The three Clans will combine and split into two groups. One will appear at the Gathering and keep Clawstar and his warriors occupied. Remember it is of utmost importance that not a single HollowClan warrior escapes from your grasp and makes it back to their camp. The kits' lives are forfeit if that occurs.  
"The second group will be the actual saviours of the kits. They will enter HollowClan's territory by stealth, disarm the guards, and take the kits. They will then run as though the demons of the Dark Forest themselves were after them, split into two, and return the kits safely to their respective Clans. They will remain with the Clan until HollowClan has been weakened enough for the threat to recede. Which, given that we should outnumber them, will hopefully not be too long." He looked up to the newleaf sky above them before flexing his claws. "Regardless of whatever group you are in, there will be fighting. You will be tested. Do not run from your fights unless you feel that your life is threatened. I mean that. There is no place for cowards or the weak of heart in this Clan."  
"Ah, but that claw cuts both ways," the hare murmured. "What is courage? Admitting that an opponent is stronger and saving your strength for another battle, or is it fighting until the bitter end, even if it means your own destruction?"

"Before I announce the members of each group, are there any questions?"  
Dreamcloud stood up. "Who will guard the camp while we're gone? If it's true that BrokenClan will remain cosily in their part of the forest, then they could launch their own invasion."  
Rapidstar shook his head. "They would not, not if they have any sense left in their minds. If we return to find BrokenClan on our land, then their kits will become our own hostages. You and your kits will remain, along with the elders and Moonpelt. If there is trouble of any sort, fetch us." He looked back to the Clan. "Anything else?"

There was silence. Rapidstar nodded. "Good. Then, in the patrol that will go to the Daylight Gathering, there will be myself, Silvertail, Fernleaf, Lilacbreeze, Runningflash, and all the apprentices. Burningfur will take Stormheart, Phantomfall, Flywing, and Whisperhunt as part of the rescue patrol. You will need to discuss tactics with Burningfur this afternoon; I leave that meeting in her paws. For the rest—sharpen your battle skills and do as much hunting as you can this afternoon as I doubt we will be in any state to do so tomorrow."  
"I'll need a few apprentices to help me organize supplies," Moonpelt said quietly.  
"Crimsonpaw and Wolfpaw, then," Rapidstar said. Twilightpaw tried not to snicker at the horrified expressions on their faces.


	13. The Lost Shadows

**Moon of the Scented Hills, 25****th**** Sun**

Twilightpaw felt as though she had butterflies the size of fruit bats inside her stomach as they trudged through the Zone, towards the Tranquil Clearing, for the Daylight Gathering. To take her mind off of it, she tried to remember what Burningfur had taught her on the subject of Daylight Gatherings.  
They had been the subject of much discussion and debate over the years. The theory went, as per Amendment 3 of the Tenth Code, any Clan leader could call a Daylight Gathering provided that they had vital news, impacting on all Clans, that could not wait until the next full moon. Attendance was compulsory, but a few unforseen holes in the Amendment allowed Clan leaders to stay away if they wanted—namely the Thirteenth Code where it dictated that the word of the Clan leader _was _the Code (the stupidest rule of them all, but there were no records of it ever being appealed against) and the fact that a leader could stay away if he or she did not find the subject of the Gathering important enough. Hawkstar could be punished for failing to attend the Gathering, as his kits' fates were clearly of vital importance to BrokenClan, but they'd have to find a damn good argument to beat his claim that an agreement made between two Clan leaders overruled any Amendment to the original Code.

Whether or not the usual rules of a Gathering applied to the Daylight ones had also been heavily debated. Some said yes; that a Gathering was a Gathering and as long as it was held in the Tranquil Clearing, a place sacred to StarClan, no blood could be spilled without angering them. Others, the current Clan leaders among them, appeared to believe that a Gathering called by a mortal, and a traitor to the Code at that, deserved no rights at all. History had shown that whether a truce was upheld between the gathered Clans generally depended on the news that had to be discussed.  
Aside from times of danger and battle, Daylight Gatherings had been called to witness the trial of a murderer. Although the final decision was made by the accused's Clan leader, the trial had to be performed in front of all the Clans to ensure no trickery was taking place. The last time this had occurred was in Riversplash's execution, where Burningfur had been the independent observer who had questioned her. No cat was allowed to lie during one of these trials; the punishment was branding, where a mark would be cut into the liar's shoulder. Once the trial had concluded, the other Clan leaders would then counsel their fellow on whether they were convinced of the accused's guilt, but in the end, the decision of that leader would overrule them all. The only way it could be reversed was if it was proven that the Clan leader had an ulterior motive in the verdict or if the Code had been broken when gathering evidence. In the former, the other Clan leaders decided. In the latter, the accused was automatically freed.

The ends did not justify the means in the world of the Clans, a belief that Twilightpaw found above all else to be truly stupid, but as Burningfur said, if you broke the Code to catch a criminal, you really weren't much better yourself.  
"I suppose it depends on the rules you break," the hare commented, loping by her side as always. She glanced aside at him. Though part of her knew that none of the others would see or hurt him, she was worried that he would suddenly disappear and not return. Although he was more proof of her madness, he was a friend, albeit one who told her things she did not like hearing.  
Longpaw dropped back from his mentor's side to join her and Valiantpaw. "Are you nervous?" he asked.  
"Are you kidding? I feel like I'm going to be sick," she hissed back at him.

"I'm not," Valiantpaw said diffidently. She tilted her head to study him. He truly wasn't. It was not that he was looking forwards to the conflict; he disliked fighting or in fact anything that was noisy and messy. It was just that he seemed immune to the atmosphere that was leaping like lightning between clouds from cat to cat.  
"Well," Longpaw said, "if one of you dies, how would you like to be buried? Here, or in LightningClan territory?"  
"I'd be dead and so I highly doubt it would matter to me either way," Twilightpaw grumbled.  
Valiantpaw nodded. "Whichever's the least convenient for the Clan. So they remember me for at least a few hours afterwards."  
"I'd like to be buried by my sisters," Longpaw said with a hint of irritation, and Twilightpaw felt a pang of guilt. It had been a serious question from him and they'd joked about it. "Your sisters?" she asked to take her mind off it.

Longpaw twitched his tail. "They were born dead. Fernleaf was really too old for kitbearing, everyone said so. They're buried under the willows by the big stream."  
"I've been there," Valiantpaw said conversationally, as though they weren't talking about dead kits. "It's a pretty place. I didn't know that the graves there were them."  
Twilightpaw glanced at her foster-brother. "Do you know where Silvertail buried your siblings?" she asked. "There were two of them as well, weren't there?"  
"Yes. They were buried separately, that's all I know," he replied. "That, and their graves aren't marked. I think Mother just wants to forget about them. They must have felt like failures to her."  
Twilightpaw wondered suddenly if she'd ever had a brother or sister. She couldn't imagine what a sister of hers would be like. Would she resemble Skykit, quiet and gentle, or Crimsonpaw, confident and slightly cold? Or Twilightpaw herself, boisterous, snarky and unable to fit into the pattern of her Clan?

The HollowClan warrior that had delivered the notice of a Daylight Gathering had been afraid. He thought that he was marching towards his death or dismemberment and had been shocked when Rapidstar just gravely accepted the message and sent him on his way. She wondered briefly if the messenger to DarkClan had been received so peacefully.  
Instinctively the LightningClan cats bunched together as they entered the Tranquil Clearing, half-expecting a sudden attack. But the only cats there apart from themselves were RainClan. Shadowstar twitched her ears in minor greeting to Rapidstar, who hurried to join her. They sat a small distance away from the warriors, heads bent in talk. Distrust emanated from both their shadows, who stalked around each other menacingly, but neither of their masters were stupid enough to show it openly.  
"No Clawstar yet," Wolfpaw observed, unnecessarily stating the bloody obvious.

"You don't say. I thought maybe Clawstar had turned his warriors invisible," Twilightpaw rolled her eyes.  
She looked for Shiverpaw, and found the blue-grey she-cat stretched out on a rock that was radiating warmth pleasantly. Although she seemed half-asleep, her hard grey eyes flitted from the faces of each LightningClan warrior, eventually landing on Twilightpaw's. Seeing that, the brown tabby felt a little better. She didn't want to waste her time with a fool.  
Casually she strolled towards the apprentice, and thought to her hare, _Can you keep an eye on the other cats, make sure no-one's watching me?  
_"Of course," he said, with a note in his voice that meant he thought she was being paranoid.  
"Hey, Shiverpaw," she said to the RainClan cat. Shiverpaw didn't return the greeting. "What do you want?"

Twilightpaw clucked her tongue slightly in thought. On the way here, she had planned to lie to Shiverpaw and claim that it was a friend who wanted the answers, but meeting her intelligent gaze instantly made her discard that. Shiverpaw would know if she lied and it would only lower Twilightpaw in her eyes.  
"Is it true that RainClan cats can remember things that other cats saw?" It was phrased more clumsily than she wanted, but the other apprentice got her meaning clear enough.  
"Yes, we hold the memories of our ancestors."  
"So…if I were to ask you a question, you could look through those memories and give me an answer?"  
"Possibly. It depends on the question and how badly you want to know."  
"It's the second most important thing in my life," Twilightpaw said bleakly. Shiverpaw surveyed her.  
"Don't ask me to predict your future or anything," she warned. "Or tell you Clan secrets. I can't do that and I wouldn't if I could. Not for you."

Twilightpaw let the insult slide past. "It's not…not about that. I need you to…" she paused. "I'm saying this wrong. Look, I have a condition, and I want to know if it's a mutation or if it's a normal enough thing and if it's possible for it to be treated. Can you find that out?"  
Shiverpaw cast a cynical eye onto her paw. "I'd say deformed feet and broken tails are common enough issues, particularly in a Clan where the queens don't stop running until they go into labour."  
"No. Not that. This is a mental thing."  
"Twilightpaw, stop dropping hints and spit it out. I can't help you if you don't tell me exactly what it is."  
"I see things," she said, echoing her words to Cloakedpaw. "I see and hear things that aren't real. When I was born, it took forever for me to learn how to speak. There are moments when I can't tell what's real and what's a hallucination. In those times, I feel like I'm being controlled by someone else. Sometimes I hear voices and they say horrible things to me about my friends and foster-family. I have spasms and fits and terrible nightmares that I can't wake up from. Is that specific enough for you?"

Shiverpaw's eyes were wide, and it took her several heartbeats to regain her composure. "Yes. But I still can't help you."  
"I know you won't now, but maybe over the next few suns—"  
"You misunderstand. It's not that I _won't _help you, it's that I _can't. _I've only been learning how to read my ancestors' memories for two and a half moons. I can barely read the memories of my grandparents. For what you want to know, I'd have to look back over all Clan history, maybe go back into the Kingdom memories."  
"The what memories?"  
"Never mind. Look, if you really want to find out, you should make an application to Shadowstar. That way you'd get access to the Children of the Dark. If they can't help you, no-one can."  
"Talk to Shadowstar? Are you mad?"

"No. Okay, I'll tell Shadowstar your request. Normally only warriors can ask questions of the Children, but I think Shadowstar will make an exception in your case. Meet me on the border of LightningClan and RainClan on the first night of the Moon of Flowering Trees—assuming we don't die today—and I'll give you her answer. If it's no, you go home and don't come back until you're a warrior. If it's yes, I'll take you then and there."  
"You have no idea of the trouble I'll get into if my Clan finds out I'm doing this."  
Shiverpaw sighed. "I do, actually. It'll be on par with the trouble _I'll _get into if I just sneak you into camp. Trust me. You'll come into the camp at night so hardly anyone will see you. The Children of the Dark don't go to Gatherings and Shadowstar has better things to do than to tattle on apprentices. Do we have a deal or not?"

Twilightpaw thought. Could she trust Shadowstar? The she-cat appeared to be the cleverest and most subtle of the Clan leaders. She burned with an ambition so bright it practically singed Twilightpaw's whiskers. She was passive-aggressive and held grudges for a long time. Although she appeared to be a valiant defender of justice and the code, it was all an act. Shadowstar had not spoken out against the destruction of SnowClan when it had mattered most; she'd stood back and let a Clan be wiped out and then turned that to her advantage when she was trying to remove HollowClan. There was as much blood on her paws as there was any Clan leader.  
But she had her honour, and she appeared reliable. She'd have to do. "Okay." she said.  
Shiverpaw nodded. "Deal, then. Remember, first night of the Moon of Flowering Trees. Now go away before someone sees us talking."  
Twilightpaw nodded and hurried back to Longpaw's side. He had not noticed her absence and was staring at the ground between his paws.

"DarkClan is here," Valiantpaw said behind her.  
Twilightpaw looked up. Sure enough, the forest-dappled coats of DarkClan warriors were pushing their ways through the trees. Deathstar prowled at their front, and Twilightpaw was struck anew by her small size. She was scarcely larger than Cloakedpaw, which seemed odd in a Clan that valued physical strength so highly. There were depths to this shadowy Clan leader, depths that frightened her for a reason that she couldn't name.  
She tried to remember the evidence Cloakedpaw had against Deathstar. The black and ginger she-cat had found the death of a young mother Twolegkit amusing. Distasteful, perhaps, but not unusual among purist Clan warriors. The reason why these domestic cats—theoretically outrunners— were called Twolegkits in the first place was because warrior cats believed that spending time in the presence of a Twoleg caused a cat to regress into a much younger mentality—somewhere halfway between an adult and a kit. These Twoleg companions were silly, stupid and shallow, with no thoughts in their heads beyond their next meal or sleeping spot. They could not hunt or fight, almost never raised their own kits, and lived boring, predictable, effortless lives that were determined by the whims of their masters. Purist Clan warriors rated a Twolegkit only slightly above the _shuri tora__*** **_and below dogs and owls.

Deathstar had also been in at least one fight or more likely a murder, as Cloakedpaw hadn't mentioned wounds. On its own that meant nothing. Cats killed each other all the time, for both good and bad reasons and sometimes none at all. They weren't called warriors for their docile natures. But her determination to keep it a secret was less explicable; DarkClan wouldn't care if she killed a rogue or even a loner. Killing Twolegkits was looked down upon, as they were so innocent and defenceless and the act said little that was good about the warrior's character, but what reason would a deadly cat like Deathstar have for murdering a Twolegkit?  
Deathstar could be mentally sick, one of those conscienceless cats that Moonpelt had spoken of. Perhaps she'd had a grudge in the past against a Twolegkit and was gaining vengeance by vanquishing them all. She'd mention the theory to Cloakedpaw and ask him to find out if there was a spate of Twolegkit murders in the area above his land. True murderers never stopped with one victim.

Cloakedpaw himself was not far away from Deathstar, sleek and muscular as always, the sunlight glinting off the silver tips to his ears. His red eyes looked almost tame in the bright day shine. He wasn't looking at her and she didn't call out to him, knowing that she'd be looked at with even more suspicion if she seemed friendly with another Clan apprentice outside of a Moonlight Gathering.  
She became aware of a slight chilliness on her neck and turned around.  
There was the pale shadow from the Gathering, come to visit her once more. Though the sunlight should have given it a strong presence, it was even fainter than before and trembled unceasingly. It looked as though it were struggling to hold itself together. Its head dipped up and down as it fought to make sound that could reach her ears. It belonged to a she-cat; that much she could tell from its fading shape.

An idea popped into her head and she slowly shifted sideways so that the pale shadow fell more or less where her own would have, if she had one. It worked, as the shadow's colour darkened and it became slightly more animated.  
_Ahhh….better, _it whispered, and Twilightpaw felt ice touch her spine. Shadows did not speak. _Could _not speak. They had no lungs to draw breath in and out through their throats to make sounds. If the shadow was talking with a reasonably clear, if quiet, voice, then that meant her madness was growing.  
_Who are you? _she thought at it. If it was in her head, like the hare, it would understand anyway.  
It did. _I was… the companion to my….my mistress.  
What was her name? Your mistress?_  
_Ah…I do not know…I never remembered…_

__Shadows! Twilightpaw could have torn her fur out in frustration. Silly little kits, all of them, with nothing in their heads except chasing each other and rolling in dust. Of course it wouldn't have bothered to remember its mistress' name.  
The shadow sensed her irritation and leaned away from her, ears and tail drooping. Twilightpaw pulled in her anger and tried a different tact. _Was your mistress a warrior? An apprentice?  
She…she was important. Many came to see her…but now she's gone , and I don't know anything anymore…  
_Several tart answers came to mind, none of which were very helpful, so Twilightpaw imagined she was speaking to a very young kit when she replied. _When your mistress came to this place, where did she stand on the rocks? _  
_At the top, _it said doubtfully. _Not always though...when we were younger we'd sit under the trees like everyone else.  
_A Clan leader. She was speaking to the shadow of a Clan leader. _Where has your mistress gone? Did she die?  
YES, _it said, so fiercely she took a step back. _SHE'S GONE. _

__Twilightpaw racked her brain. What had been the name of the DarkClan leader before Deathstar? She had died recently, hadn't she?  
But why on earth was her shadow still around? Although Twilightpaw had little experience of cat death, whenever she'd gone hunting and make a kill the shadow of the prey had always died with it. It became something like her own shadow, just a floppy lifeless thing with no animation to it. A shadow in the way that ordinary cats saw them. She'd always just assumed that cats' shadows followed the same pattern—otherwise there would be an awful lot of shadows without masters or mistresses floating around.  
_Why did you come to me, then?_ she asked, still keeping her thought-voice calm and reassuring. _Why not go after her?  
_Violentstar. That was the name of the previous DarkClan leader.

_Because I can't, _it said miserably. _I try and I try and I try but I can't find her. Why can't I find her?  
_Twilightpaw shrugged. _I don't know. How did she die?  
_There was a noise behind them, and the shadow squeaked. Before Twilightpaw could say a word, it vanished into the clear sunhigh air.  
Twilightpaw bit her tongue to hold back several swear words as a DarkClan warrior she didn't recognize pushed its way through the bushes nearby. He flashed a glance at her, and she had a sudden image of herself staring vacantly into one spot, shrugging and sighing at intervals. She looked at his shadow and was surprised to find it bristling and baring its teeth. Shadows normally mimicked the emotions of their masters, but this warrior showed no sign of anger. Either he was very good at hiding his emotions, or his shadow was reacting to something he couldn't see.  
"I smell HollowClan," he said, to break the silence.

"Bully for you," she replied and promptly turned her back on him, refusing to be embarrassed. There _was _a faint trace of HollowClan in the air that she was quite sure hadn't been there a little while ago.  
Around her, cats were raising their heads and unsheathing their claws. Twilightpaw held her breath and tested her own talons briefly on a piece of wood, though she knew it was unlikely a fight would break out in the next few minutes at least. The Clan leaders would try and talk Clawstar out of his insane plan first and not even he would want a fight if it could be avoided.  
The reek of the dark, decaying forest that the HollowClan warriors inhabited grew stronger as they approached. But there was something else in the breeze, too—the scent of other cats. Twilightpaw frowned and inhaled again. Surely…surely not…

"Oh, you'd better believe it," the hare said with fifty shades of mockery in his voice.  
Clawstar stepped into the Tranquil Clearing, and Twilightpaw had the dark thought that blood would still stain the grass of the Gathering place at the next full moon.  
The bone-white tom carried a tiny, wriggling kit in his jaws.  
He was followed by what appeared to be every warrior in HollowClan, and more. A kindle of cats tracked the Clan a few steps behind. They had ragged fur, sharp teeth, deadly eyes, and they stank. Outrunners; and from the looks of things, the worst of them.  
Directly behind Clawstar came a pale grey warrior that she assumed to be Venomfang. He too carried a kit, but this one was chillingly silent, and he held it with as much gentleness and affection as he would a dead rat. One by one, the kits came out—five of them in total, three RainClan and two BrokenClan. The RainClan kits were older, and two were being made to walk alongside their captors, hemmed in by warriors. Their faces were patched with skin where it looked like they'd pulled out their own fur in their terror and stress, but now they moved with a bleak calmness. They'd been told since they were born that if they were bad, HollowClan would steal them away and eat them. Panic would do nothing now.

Shadowstar made a strangled sound in her throat like she was choking on a scream. Clawstar reached the pile of rocks and spat out the RainClan kit he'd been carrying to his paws. She bleated pitifully, the runt of her littler, seemingly less developed than her cold-faced siblings.  
Venomfang dropped his quiet BrokenClan burden, and wiped his mouth on his leg as though getting rid of a foul taste. The third kit-bearing warrior, however, kept a tight grip on his burden, and the other HollowClan cats settled among their usual places under the trees. Some were smiling; others stared straight ahead, stony-faced, their shadows shivering with uneasiness. The outrunners kept to the dark places of the Zone, their eyes fixed on Clawstar.  
Twilightpaw tried to count them, but her fear kept distracting her. She could understand, however, that there were at least as many cats on HollowClan's side as there was on RainClan's—possibly more. Half of the other Clans were away, trying to find and break into a camp that would be completely empty. They had underestimated Clawstar badly; he would not be leader of the most bloodthirsty Clan in the forest if he was a fool.

"Did you think I wouldn't guess?" Clawstar purred, as calmly as though he discussed the weather. "Did you think I was so stupid as to give you an opportunity to divide and conquer? Where are your other warriors—attacking my camp, I suppose? How primitive. They won't find anything, you know. Even our kits are elsewhere right now." His hazel eyes landed on the RainClan leader. "What's wrong, Shadowstar? Where have all your fighting words gone now? Don't worry, I understand. It's easy to mock and taunt when you think you're on the winning side."  
"Let them go, Clawstar," Shadowstar said in a choked tone. "They've done nothing to you, nothing at all."  
Clawstar ignored her and turned to Deathstar and Rapidstar. Both were watching him with veiled eyes. Even their shadows gave nothing away.

"I have no quarrel with either of you," he said. "Deathstar, you offended me at the Gathering, but you are young and inexperienced as a leader and I understand that it may have seemed the wiser move at the time to ally yourself with the majority. I'll forgive you for that." Deathstar dipped her head ever so slightly, but she said nothing. Clawstar continued: "Rapidstar, I have nothing but respect for you and your Clan. You've always been fair to me and I know you are honest. And so I ask you both, now, to take your warriors and go. I don't know what RainClan offered you to fight by their side, but I can give you more. Leave now and not only will you save your Clans from death and injury, but I swear by StarClan you will get a share of RainClan land."  
Rapidstar and Deathstar looked at each other for a long minute, some form of silent communication passing between them. Twilightpaw's gut clenched as she watched them. What was being a good leader? Standing up for what you knew to be right, or putting your Clan first? LightningClan would do well in RainClan territory, even if it was a little too thorny for their tastes. She had no idea what was going on in their heads and didn't want to.

Finally, finally, Rapidstar spoke. "I cannot accept, Clawstar. You have harmed kits and bent the laws of the Code to your own advantage. I can't speak for Deathstar, but LightningClan, at least, will fight against you."  
"So will DarkClan," Deathstar added. Twilightpaw flinched in surprise. She'd thought that the dark-hearted she-cat would jump at the chance for more land for her Clan. "What use do we have for scraggly scrubland? We are not fast enough to catch the prey that runs there and our own territory more than sustains us. But I won't let you have it. I don't agree with either of you—Clawstar or Shadowstar. Just because SnowClan is no longer among the living doesn't make them any less of a Clan. In the skies above they walk, in our minds and in our hearts, and they deserve a territory still, if only in memoriam so that what has been will never occur again."  
Clawstar looked like he wanted to strike her, but he reigned in his anger. "You do understand that if you refuse, I will kill those kits right now?"

Rapidstar gave him a wolf's grin, one that showed all his teeth. "We will fight you, Clawstar, and we will defeat you. We have StarClan on our side. Your actions now dictate our mercy. Free those kits and fight us with honour, and we will let you stay in the Clan. Lay a claw on them, and HollowClan will be exiled. If this forest can survive with five Clans, I'm sure it can exist with four."  
"Why are you against this?" Clawstar spat in bewildered rage. "Walking away now gives you everything! The kits will live, your _Clan _will live, and you gain territory! What—"  
"You should have realized, Clawstar," Deathstar interrupted coldly, "that even if RainClan had given way to your demands, we would have never let you remain in SnowClan territory. There's no point in having five Clans if one is twice the size of all the rest."  
"Once you'd gained SnowClan, would your greed had stopped there?" Rapidstar continued heavily. "Or would you have turned to BrokenClan, your weakened neighbour? Perhaps you would declare war on Shadowstar for her insults and steal her land too. Then what—would you have left us alone? Of course not. Only at that point, we would be fighting a Clan with four times our power. It's a choice between doing what gives us brief gratification and what will ensure our survival in the future. If you were in our paws, StarClan forbid, would you be any different?"  
"Clawstar, as the leader of DarkClan, I lay charges against you," Deathstar said in a monotone. "You can expect them to be named in full in the aftermath. If you live."  
Clawstar narrowed his eyes to slits. "So be it." He seemed to move as though he were in a dream, and Twilightpaw could tell from his shadow that despite his outward appearance of calm he had never really expected things to reach this point.

Bizarrely, she felt a moment of pity for him. He was in way over his head and he was only just beginning to realize it.  
He reached the rock.  
"Venomfang—" he began.  
Shadowstar reached the deputy first, barrelling him over with desperate force. The two cats wrestled fiercely while the kit on the rocks continued to lie still. Something in the poor creature's silence chilled the watching cats, and no-one intervened or said anything.  
"Stop it!" a cat called; probably RainClan from the accent. "_Stop!_"  
Shadowstar rolled to her paws. Venomfang took slightly longer. He shook himself and held up a front paw that was trickling blood from a tooth mark. He glanced enquiringly at Clawstar, but his leader seemed as shocked by the sudden violence as anyone and shook his head slowly.  
The cat brushed towards the kit, stepping gingerly past the HollowClan warriors. A gust of air carried his scent past Twilightpaw's nose—the RainClan medicine cat, probably here to treat the wounded that would not be able to move after the fight.

He dropped to his belly by the kit and nudged her gently with his nose. There was no reaction, not even when he began to lick and nuzzle her with increasing force. As she watched, Twilightpaw felt a darkness form and swirl in her heart, a darkness that was beginning to leak into her bloodstream.  
And when at last the medicine cat shook his head, lost in defeat, there were no cries of rage or horror. There were no screams of vengeance for the poor kit that lay so far from home at the sanguine-stained paws of a warrior who had hated her simply for the blood that flowed in her veins. There were no cries, because this was a BrokenClan kit, and there were no BrokenClan warriors to mourn her properly.  
"StarClan, if you're out there at all," she whispered, "please—look after her. She's so little." She remembered when she had dreamed of Cloudkit and Skykit's shadows forming, and in the moment she saw a tiny flicker of darkness, so small and faint that it was almost invisible.

Twilightpaw touched her nose to the kit's shadow. _You go on now, _she murmured. _There's nothing for you here, my sweet. You need to go and find your mistress._  
_Not until it's over, _the lost shadow replied in the faintest breath of a voice. _Not until it's done.  
_"Clawstar," Rapidstar said, quiet sadness and something else in his voice, "End this. Go home."  
Clawstar dragged his gaze from the dead kit to the medicine cat. "How did she die?"  
The cat's tail still drooped. "The stress of her capture and being away from her family…it broke her heart. You won't find any marks on her to tell of her death, so I can't say for certain, but…I think she just gave up."  
_Broke her heart. _Twilightpaw glanced at the stars. She'd never once wondered what it must have cost her mother to deny her natural instincts and leave her kit to die on the moors.

At heart, she'd always seen herself as the victim—not without reason. She _had _been left to die. But she'd only superficially wondered why. She'd heard stories of the things that mothers went through for their children, of the risks they took, of the battles they fought to keep them safe. She remembered Ambershade telling her a story of when Crimsonpaw and Wolfpaw, both kits, had snuck out of camp one sun to find an adventure and ended up catching the eye of a hungry eagle. Just before they were snatched and eaten, Lilacbreeze had thrown herself onto the bird with a ferocity on par with a blood-lusting wolf. The eagle had been nearly twice her size but she'd torn it into bloody, quivering pieces for daring to even come near her children. When Twilightpaw, fascinated, had asked her what had gone through her head when she'd fought the eagle, Lilacbreeze had simply said: "Nothing. They were my kits and they were in trouble. Cats told me I was a hero, but there was absolutely nothing else I could have done except save them."  
She wondered what kind of life her mother had led, for it to reach the point where she thought that it was better off to kill her kit than to raise it in her world.

"Go home, Clawstar," repeated Rapidstar, more softly but no less forcefully. "There is nothing that you can achieve here. For the sake of whatever scraps of compassion you have left inside you, just go. Let that kit be buried by her mother."  
Clawstar wavered. She could see him hesitating, and she knew that a large part of him wanted to do just as Rapidstar had said. But she and Clawstar could see what Rapidstar couldn't; the outrunners in the shadows, who were forming a circle and beginning to close in. Clawstar had gone too far down his path. If he tried to turn back now, the outrunners would tear him to pieces. He had promised them blood and blood they would get.  
"No, _you _go," Clawstar said with a trace of his old authority. "Any violence that occurs next is not my fault. I've given you plenty of chances to end this without blood."  
Shadowstar, who had been slowly edging towards the living kit at Clawstar's paws, stopped at this.  
"Sure, Clawstar. Whatever helps you sleep at night."  
"Attack," the desperate white HollowClan leader said, and every cat who heard it knew how reluctantly the word passed from his lips.

***shuri tora—a bird that eats living flesh, excluding owls. One of the few words remaining from the original Kingdom language.**


	14. Retribution

"Wolfpaw!" Twilightpaw cried, seeing his black-and-white form flicker in the ensuing chaos. "Wolfpaw, get help!" He wasn't the fastest out of the apprentices—that was a regular tussle between Crimsonpaw and Longpaw—but he did have a weaker will than either of them.  
"From where?" he yelled back to her, already picking out a target with his eyes.  
"Find Burningfur and the rest of the patrol. They'll be in HollowClan territory, trying to find the camp. Go now!"  
"You can't make me," he began, and Twilightpaw snarled at him. "Idiot! This isn't about glory, this is about survival! If you want us to win, _find her!_"

He hesitated for a few more precious heartbeats, and then sprang away through the trees. It wasn't the right direction, but she hoped he'd have the sense to circle around. She wouldn't have put it past Clawstar to have stationed cats on the borders of the Zone, waiting to catch deserters.  
"Good luck," she murmured to herself.  
"Don't worry about him, worry about yourself!" Longpaw said, watching the HollowClan warriors and rogues breach the first line of defenders and swarm in towards them.  
"I'm multi-talented, I can do both. Don't die!" He was already charging towards a HollowClan cat.  
Twilightpaw held her breath, trying to figure out what on earth she would do. She'd dreamed of this moment, her first battle, but the reality was very different. In her mind, it had been of evenly matched warriors challenging and fighting each other, displaying incredible skill and eventually allowing the loser to flee when it was apparent that he couldn't win.

In the real world, there were often two cats pinning one to the ground while a third inflicted horrific damage. In the real world, they fought dirty, pretending to be beaten before leaping up as soon as their opponent's back was turned. They aimed for eyes and throats and bellies; there seemed to be no goal except that of pounding your enemy into the ground until he was simply a smear of gore at your feet. And she wanted no part of it.  
A concussive shock set off flashes of light behind her eyes as a cat grabbed her and slammed her head hard into the ground. Her teeth sank into her own tongue and she gagged on the taste of blood and the painful nausea. Fangs gripped the ridge of her left shoulder and grated against bone.  
The pain caused her head to clear slightly, and she broke into a run. He galloped to keep up with her, his teeth still in her flesh, and she kicked out with her left leg to trip him up. Unfortunately he was strong, refusing to lose his grip, and all she succeeded in doing was knocking them both to the ground in an ungracious tangle. She lashed out with her front claws and they cut into something soft; the cat howled in pain and she tore her shoulder free.

Now suddenly finding herself on the advancing foot, Twilightpaw pressed her advantage, delivering slicing cuts that forced him backwards to avoid them. His scent was disgusting to the point of distraction, reeking of carrion and sickness. Didn't rogues ever wash themselves? Odour aside, she knew that at any moment he would find a gap in her offense and finish her. She had nothing on her side—not strength, not size, not experience. Nothing—well, except her wits.  
She lunged forwards with a front claw, but as she did so she pretended that the pain in her shoulder caught her up and she stumbled, turning slightly. The rogue grinned and jumped in a leap that would carry her onto her back and possibly break her spine, but the moment his hind feet left the ground she swung around and kicked out with her hind legs, using the energy generated from her swing to add extra power. Her paws landed on his chin with an ultra-satisfying jarring sensation and he tumbled into the earth. She rolled him onto his back, ready to cut into him if he had energy left, but he was completely unconscious. She allowed herself a moment of victory. Her first battle, and she'd won.

Her moment of satisfaction nearly cost her life. If the hare hadn't let out a cry of warning, Redpaw would have certainly killed her.  
She'd thought he was big at the Gathering, but now he seemed monstrous. His sanguine eyes glittered with a kind of sick joy at the conflict, and even now he smiled at her, baring deadly fangs. Twilightpaw took a few steps backwards, her stomach falling into her paws. She'd beaten a rogue older than him, yes, but he was unhealthy and untrained. Redpaw had none of those weaknesses, and he was stronger and more experienced besides.  
"How can you do this?" she hissed at him, trying to appeal to a better nature that she wasn't sure he had. "That kit died because of you."  
"Me?" Redpaw chuckled. "That's funny. I could have sworn it died because it was weak and Shadowstar was stubborn. Run away, Twilightpaw. You know you're too pathetic to do any real damage."

"Bite me," she snarled in response, and lunged forwards. She caught him by surprise, which was really her only chance. She raked her claws down the side of his neck, trying to aim for the soft part of his throat. She didn't want to kill anyone, not even a bastard like Redpaw, but she wouldn't die for her beliefs. She might be wrong.  
Redpaw hunched his head downwards, shielding the throbbing veins in his throat from her talons. Although blood flowed steadily from the wounds she'd inflicted, he didn't seem to care much. He launched a paw at her, and she reared up to catch it with her own front paws in the traditional parry.  
It felt like a shining beast had crashed into her and she nearly fell over backwards. Dropping back to all fours, she tried to surprise him again, swooping behind him to graze his hind leg with her teeth. Redpaw kicked her in the chin and she blinked as lights dazzled her again. She really needed to stop being hit in the face. The next one might cause her to black out or even brain damage.

Her moment's distraction was all Redpaw needed and he caught her scruff in his jaws and forced her onto her back, exposing her belly, and pinning a paw to her chest. He stood over her and she writhed ineffectually, feeling violated simply by their positions.  
"Better luck in StarClan," he purred. "If you go there, of course."  
Twilightpaw tried to remember frantically what Burningfur had said about headbutting an opponent when you were on your back and he wasn't. Something about hind legs and a strong head, and oh yes, being calm. She failed on two of those counts. _Damn it, why didn't I just go fetch Burningfur? I might have been lucky and missed the whole fight. Now I'm going to die because I'm just so bloody arrogant.  
_A shadow danced beyond her hind paws, and Redpaw roared a sound that was somewhere between pain and anger.

"Get off my sister, you son of a bitch!" a voice cried.  
The shape darted forwards again and Redpaw turned, lifting his paw slightly off her chest. Wondering at what divine presence had chosen to spare her, she rolled out from under him and scraped her claws down his side. He shrieked in pain and staggered sideways, before steadying himself and swivelling so that he could face them both head on.  
Valiantpaw wasn't willing to give him that chance and tried the same move that had nearly killed Twilightpaw previously, swooping inwards to bite his leg. As her brother moved, Twilightpaw slashed at Redpaw's face with a paw, and he had to duck his head to save his eyes. Valiantpaw caught hold of Redpaw's hind leg and dragged the tom to his belly and pressed a paw to the back of his neck.  
"Wait!" Twilightpaw called, seeing as Valiantpaw had drawn back his lips in preparation to bite. "Don't kill him. There's no point."

"He would have killed us," Valiantpaw pointed out.  
"Which is why we have to be better than him, isn't it? Just knock him out or something, keep him down for as long as you can. Remember the Code says that we shouldn't kill unless we really have to."  
"I don't see that stopping anyone else," the mahogany tom grumbled, but he obediently lifted Redpaw's head up and slammed it into the ground, hard. Redpaw moaned and struggled, so Valiantpaw did it again. And again. On the fourth attempt, Redpaw went completely limp and his tongue lolled from between his teeth.  
Twilightpaw looked down at herself, and saw the blood coating her claws, and was sickeningly reminded of Venomfang.  
"No distractions, Twilightpaw! This is how you almost died!" the hare cried in true fear. "Stay close to Valiantpaw and look out!"

She gritted her teeth and nodded. The hare was right. She was going to be killed sooner rather than later if she took time to reflect on every fight directly afterwards. This was why stupid cats lived longer, she thought as she pressed herself tightly against Valiantpaw's side. They had no thoughts in their heads to distract them.  
"I'm trying to find the other apprentices on our side," Valiantpaw said to her. "I haven't seen Longpaw but I've smelt him. He's bleeding, but not badly."  
"Wolfpaw has gone to look for Burningfur. If he finds her and brings her back in time, we'll outnumber them pretty easily."  
"Smart idea. Yours?"  
"Naturally. Seriously speaking, though, I can't imagine it'll take long for him to find her. They're a big group—he'll pick up their scent."

"You haven't seen HollowClan territory, Twilightpaw. Neither have I, for that matter, but I've heard of it. It's all marsh and huge trees and darkness. There are bits of swamp that look exactly like dry ground but can drown a cat in minutes if he steps in it. Only HollowClan knows the safe paths and they've never told or shown anyone else, ever. Even if Wolfpaw manages to pick up the patrol's trail, he'll have to find a way to catch up with them without getting caught up in vines or quicksand or being bitten by a snake. There's a reason why no-one has ever bothered fighting them on their home ground."  
Twilightpaw bit her lip. "So we might be here for a while."  
"We might be here until we die, in fact. Let's find Longpaw. Might as well go down with all claws unsheathed."  
"Oh, yes. I'm sure he's missing our witty commentary already."

Longpaw probably wouldn't have been that hard to find—there weren't many cats with his height—but to save time, Twilightpaw simply asked the shadows to show her to him. Most of them were bewildered by the violence around them, totally unable to comprehend what was going on, and they were glad to help. Only a few shadows fought alongside their masters—although since shadows had no physical form and could not therefore hurt each other, those ones just bared their teeth, crouched, stalked, menaced. Their positions certainly looked threatening to their terrified opponents. She also saw shadows holding up paws, shaking their heads as though to clear it, and hunched over in agony. She felt sorry for them. They were scared enough without having to share their masters' pain.  
The shadows pushed her over to Longpaw, who was struggling under the grip of two rogues. He lashed out with his hind legs, forcing one rogue to release him, and then the grey tabby darted forwards to slice open the other outrunner's nose. They snarled and advanced again, and he took a few steps back, his ears flattened in defiant anger. He was in bloodlust, but not to the monstrous point that Redpaw had reached. He carried a number of small cuts and fur was missing from his shoulder, but his only real injury was a deep bite on his hind leg, which had presumably spilled the blood that Valiantpaw had scented.

The rogues attacked as a pair again, one skidding to Longpaw's side and the other bearing down from up above. Twilightpaw leaped at this rogue and landed horizontally on his back, her claws sinking into his matted fur in an attempt to keep her grip. They were pressed up against the bony ridges of his shoulders, meaning that she couldn't get as tight a hold as she wanted to. She quickly sank her teeth into the scruff of his neck, and part of her died inside as she tasted the filth stuck to his pelt. He twisted and writhed, and her shoulder complained loudly as his movements tugged open her just-clotted wound.  
Valiantpaw and Longpaw were collectively beating the crap out of the second rogue, whom, to his credit, wasn't giving in. He feinted, swiping at Longpaw, who dodged easily, before lunging towards Valiantpaw and catching him off guard. His claws left score marks down the younger cat's chest, but Valiantpaw caught the paw in his teeth before the rogue could pull it away. Twilightpaw wasn't sure about what happened after, because the rogue she was riding had decided to stop attempting to buck her off and to just roll on her instead. Twilightpaw jumped clear in time, but her damned shoulder announced its decision to give up on her even as she hit the ground, and it buckled beneath her. She cried out in pain. It didn't feel broken or even sprained, but it definitely hurt.

The rogue advanced on her, and she scrambled upwards. Whoever had designed the cat deserved a serious promotion for ensuring that she could balance perfectly well on three legs; although the fact that she couldn't really use her claws to any great effect anymore took a little of the shine away.  
He attacked, and she dodged, skipping backwards. The pain was receding from her shoulder as adrenaline kicked in, and she began to really start wishing that this bloodlust thing would happen to her soon as well. She dodged again and tentatively tested out her shoulder. It seemed capable of holding a quarter of her weight, but if she were to fight properly, it would need to support quite a bit more.  
She leaped sideways, catching most of her weight on her hind legs and slicing the rogue's flesh with her right paw. Before he could recover, she clamped her jaws on the side of his neck and bit as deep as she could. His blood soured her mouth, but she held on, shaking him from side to side in an effort to knock him out. Burningfur had said that if you shook something hard enough, their brain would bounce off against their skull and they'd pass out. If you shook even harder, or for a long time, they'd get brain damage. Unfortunately, she didn't quite have the strength to rattle a fully grown adult male.

She adjusted her grip, occasionally slashing at his face with her right paw to keep him distracted, attempting to choke him instead. This was a little more effective and she felt his struggles weaken slightly—maybe he was actually losing his breath, or maybe he was just getting worn out—enough so that she could rear up and push as much of her weight onto his neck as she could. Now he definitely was getting into difficulties, and started to cough, a dry, rasping sound that reminded her of claws running against stone. He gagged, then stumbled, then fell to the ground. Twilightpaw let him go. He wasn't unconscious, but he wasn't getting up.  
She looked for Valiantpaw and Longpaw, and found them bewildering a HollowClan warrior with their somewhat unorthodox fighting methods. She was fairly sure that out of the ways to knock an opponent off their feet, pretending to die wasn't one of them, though leaping up to scratch the warrior's face open once she bent down to sniff their supposed corpses might come under "surprise attack". Twilightpaw ran in to help, and between the three of them they inflicted enough damage to make her retreat.

"I could have used your help with the rogue tom over there," she grumbled. She looked around for the other miserable member of the duo, but he was gone.  
"Nonsense," Valiantpaw panted, "you were doing great. Well, actually, you were doing terribly, so I was going to help, but then I tripped over my own paws, and decided that it was best to let you find out how bad you were at your own pace."  
"You'd better be joking, apprentice."  
"Of course I am. I would never trip over my paws."  
Longpaw shook his head at them, the bloodlust faded from his eyes. "Really? Really? We're in the middle of a fight for our lives, a fight that could determine the future of the Clans _forever, _and you both manage to be even more annoying and self-absorbed than usual?"  
"I laugh or I scream, my friend. Join in, you might live longer. Laughter's supposed to be good for the soul." Twilightpaw grinned at him.

"On the other paw," Valiantpaw mused, "they say that frowning uses more muscles than smiling, so you're actually giving your face good exercise right now, which might make you live longer anyway."  
Longpaw's scowl deepened, which made them both laugh. Then they heard a shriek. A kit's squeal.  
They instinctively bunched together and triangulated the sound, and saw a kit gripped between Venomfang's teeth. Kits looked all the same to Twilightpaw, and she couldn't pick up its scent, so she wasn't sure if it was BrokenClan or RainClan or male or female.  
"Let's go!" Longpaw cried, bunching his muscles in preparation to sprint. Valiantpaw stared at him.  
"Are you mad? We're going to attack the HollowClan deputy? Widely regarded as the sixth best fighter in the Clans?"  
"Sixth? Who's first?" Twilightpaw asked mildly.  
"Me. Then the Clan leaders, excluding Hawkstar because he couldn't beat a robin in battle, then Venomfang."  
"Oh. Where am I, then?"  
"I dunno, probably forty-second or something."  
"We have to do something! We can't just watch him kill a kit!" Longpaw raged in frustration.  
Twilightpaw sighed. "I'll go. I've had one near-death experience already in this fight, and they say that the worst things come in pairs. Might as well get my second one over and done with."  
Valiantpaw gave them both looks that told them he thought they were being idiots, then rolled his shoulders in a shrug and gave in. "I guess if you both die, I won't have anyone around to talk to. Let's go."

Longpaw was already racing away, and Twilightpaw pushed after him. Cats assumed they were fleeing and didn't bother them—and the ones who did simply got shoved aside by the combined weight of three not-very-light apprentices. Twilightpaw felt her muscles beginning to burn. Although it was worth taking shortcuts in the Scourings simply to start training with a cheerful mood, it was coming at the price of her stamina. Longpaw was beginning to get ahead of them, and twice already they'd called for him to slow down. Valiantpaw ran by her side, either to ensure that she didn't get caught up or because he failed to understand the significance of their desperate race or maybe just because he wasn't all that fit either.  
They scrambled onto the rocks, which were slippery with cat blood, and Longpaw's extended legs got him into trouble as he stacked his weight on a rock that skidded sideways, resulting in him collapsing in a tangle. He shook his head, urging them onwards, but they simply grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him to his paws.

"No beast left behind, sir!" Twilightpaw called to him, using a line from one of the few stories of Ambershade's she'd paid attention to. Longpaw grimaced; whether it was from pain or her jokes was unknown.  
Venomfang swivelled his head to face them, the kit still wriggling in his jaws. Now that she was closer, she could tell it was the second BrokenClan kit. That made sense; he'd have had more difficulty containing one of the RainClan offspring. With a stab of sickness to her stomach she wondered if the other kits had been killed already. Wasn't that what Clawstar had claimed he would do?  
Venomfang opened up his jaws and the kit tumbled to the ground. If Twilightpaw had been that kit, she would have run away and never looked back. But it just lay there and stared at them with frightened yellow eyes.

"Not another step, apprentices," Venomfang warned, "You wouldn't want to be responsible for killing the last of the BrokenClan kits, would you?"  
Twilightpaw bent to whisper into Valiantpaw's ear. "Why does this guy seem to believe that we're all going to charge at him at once?"  
"I thought that actually was the plan," he hissed back.  
"It _was. _It isn't_ now. _You and Longpaw attack him. I'll grab the kit."  
"What will you do with it?"  
"Not sure. Dump it somewhere and come back?"  
"Oh. yeah, like nothing could go wrong with that." Nevertheless, he began to mutter into Longpaw's ear.  
"I'm getting bored, apprentices," Venomfang growled, his claws edging forwards into the kit's pelt.  
"Then you have some sort of attention disability, and that's not our fault. You said you wouldn't kill the kit until we took a step forwards, which none of us have. Also, your ears are stupid," Twilightpaw said.

Venomfang shot her a puzzled look. "What's wrong with my ears?"  
"They're stupid. That's not me talking, though, that's my foster-mother. You might have met her. Silvertail. Very good-looking she-cat, if you're into that sort of thing. Anyway, she said that your ears are annoying. On another cat, they'd be fine, but on you they look stupid."  
Valiantpaw stuck his head up from his whispering with Longpaw. "Hey, Venomface or whatever your name is, can you take a couple of steps backwards, please? We're trying to plot your destruction, but the thing is, you have all the advantages, so if you could maybe even it out a little bit by moving back…?"  
Venomfang snorted. "I think not." Twilightpaw resisted the urge to mimic him.  
"Well, then," Valiantpaw began, then paused. "Ah, crap, I couldn't think of a witty send-off. Rest assured, though, that the ones hidden in my subconscious were all suitably funny and clever. Longpaw, let's go." The two toms strolled away.

"Hey. What about me?" Twilightpaw called after them.  
"Deal with it," Longpaw said indifferently. "You're the hero, after all."  
"You're not as funny as we are, so stop trying," she snapped.  
His voice floated back. "I'm not trying. True masters of the art of snarky banter don't have to."  
Twilightpaw muttered swear words under her breath and turned back to look at Venomfang, who was watching her with mingled triumph and bewilderment.  
"Look, could you just stand away from the kit already?" she said wearily. "The only steps we've taken are backwards."

Venomfang actually appeared to consider it for a few heartbeats, then shook his head. "You should probably join them. Not very good friends, are they?"  
"At least I have them. Your ears are still stupid."  
Venomfang tilted his head. "What did you say?"  
"For the fourth time, I said your ears are stupid."  
"No, before that."  
"Oh. You have no friends."  
"I have plenty of friends. More than you."  
"Name five."  
"I have loads of friends!" he snapped.  
"Then you shouldn't have any problem with saying their names, should you? Or are you like part of Burningfur's weird idea and you think that all names are secret?"

Venomfang's stupid ears flattened. "You are starting to get on my nerves."  
"Join the queue. But, anyway, what was I doing? Oh, yeah, I was pointing out all the ways I'm better then you. I have more friends. I have better ears. I don't murder kits."  
Venomfang stalked towards her. "How about this? I'm a better fighter, and I'm going to tear your throat out."  
Twilightpaw chuckled. "Probably. But there is another way that I'm better than you."  
"Oh, indeed?"  
"Yep. I'm not an idiot."  
Venomfang paused for a few heartbeats, digesting this, and then turned to see Longpaw galloping away with the kit in his jaws.

Venomfang swore violently and dug his claws in the earth. Valiantpaw padded calmly up to Twilightpaw's side.  
"You're lucky I guessed what you were up to," she growled at him.  
"Well, as you said, you're not an idiot, and there's only a few reasons why Longpaw would walk away from a kit in fatal trouble, so I don't think it was _entirely _luck."  
"I still want to hit you."  
"Can it wait until we get home?"  
The two apprentices dodged, one to each side, as Venomfang sprang between them, roaring.  
"Run!" Twilightpaw cried, and they raced away.  
"Hooray," Valiantpaw panted. "We're retreating at the first sight of difficulty."

"We're not retreating, we're advancing in reverse, okay? Shut up and keep moving."  
They returned to the thicket of melee, and Twilightpaw heard a particularly loud screech. She turned towards it and saw Shiverpaw grappling with a small grey tabby HollowClan tom with black stripes. This tom had the speed and nimbleness of a hare, and was darting between her defences to bite her ears, slash at her flesh, and knock her to the ground.  
Twilightpaw gritted her teeth, really not wanting to do any more fighting today, but if Shiverpaw died or was hurt badly enough her request wouldn't be passed on to Shadowstar. Then she felt disgusted with herself for thinking that, and jumped into the fight.  
She lashed out at the tabby, but with incredible reflexes he leaped into the air. Instead of just dodging to the side, he stiffened his tail horizontally and used it to position himself so that he landed on Twilightpaw. She cried out in pain as his claws raked down her back. She bucked and reared, but he had a good grip and just dug in deeper. In desperation she feinted a roll, slipping one shoulder to the ground and springing upwards the moment he leapt off. If she'd actually rolled onto her back, he'd have slit her belly open in a heartbeat. There was no doubt about it; this cat was aiming to kill.  
Blood was pouring freely from her wounds, and she felt dizzy; it was her first really serious injury. The tom took a few steps backwards, seemingly interested in what she was planning on doing next. She risked a glance around for Valiantpaw and Longpaw, but couldn't see any friendly faces except for possibly Shiverpaw, who was still groaning on the ground.

Twilightpaw tried to feint again, striking towards one side of him while darting across to the other, but her shoulder had stiffened and was slowing her down. The tom lunged forwards and buried his teeth into her foreleg, trying to pull her down the way Redpaw had earlier. It must be taught in HollowClan training. She reared up and managed to get one good blow into his head before she lost her balance and tumbled to the ground. Luckily the HollowClan tom was briefly dazed from her blow, enough for her to scramble free of his clutches and watch him spring to his paws a second later.  
Shiverpaw tried to help her, attempting to sneak up behind the tom, but he just lashed out with a hind paw and scored clawmarks across her face. She shuddered, but refused to yield, and grabbed his tail and pulled with what little strength she had. The tom yowled in pain, but his kicks remained focussed and powerful, and eventually he landed a blow on Shiverpaw's chin that knocked her out for good. Twilightpaw had expected—_hoped—_that he would ignore her for a few heartbeats to deliver Shiverpaw the killing bite, but no such luck. The tom retreated backwards for a few moments, narrowing his intense dark blue eyes, and then went for her.

Even as she fought desperately to keep him away from her throat and chest, she was awed by Shiverpaw's courage. His blows _hurt, _more than anything she'd ever felt in her life before, and as his claws pierced her skin over and over again she really did just want to lie down and die. But her body refused to allow it, and she fell into a numb state of mind where she blocked, dodged and parried his strikes as best she could and ineffectually swiping at him whenever the briefest gap in his defences appeared. Her vision was beginning to narrow as her consciousness became detached due to blood loss, shock and pain.  
Then warm fur brushed against her other side, and the HollowClan tom hissed. Twilightpaw shook off some of the hopelessness that was poisoning her and took the opportunity to slash at the tom. Her aim was true and blood spilled over her talons as he yelped and cut her across the face.  
"That's it, sweetheart," murmured a familiar voice. "Keep at it. He isn't as stubborn as you."  
Twilightpaw gritted her teeth and broke through the pain barrier, leaping onto the tom with reckless abandon. His paws battered at her belly, but she had the momentum, and she forced him to the ground. He pushed her off and then screamed, with real fear this time.

Cloakedpaw had gripped his hindquarters with his massive claws and was tearing them with precise power through his rump. The tom shrieked and struggled as chunks of flesh were torn from him and blood vessels burst, and still Cloakedpaw kept cutting him, before at last the mighty red-eyed apprentice released the HollowClan cat and chased him away with a fierce bite to his leg. Watching him go, Cloakedpaw shook his enemy's blood from his pelt and glanced at Twilightpaw.  
"Thank you," Twilightpaw said hoarsely. "Thanks a lot."  
Cloakedpaw looked back over his shoulder. "Yeah, well, I promised to help you. Who was that cat, anyway?"  
"Don't know," Twilightpaw coughed. "I've never fought anyone like him. I think he could beat Burningfur if he wanted to."  
"I…know him," came an even weaker voice as Shiverpaw staggered to her feet. She was clearly concussed and blood tricked from her nostrils. "His name is Scourgepaw."  
"An _apprentice?_" Cloakedpaw demanded. Twilightpaw thought that was slightly hypocritical coming from him.

Shiverpaw nodded and winced. "Yeah. About my age. Two-thirds through his apprenticeship. I…I hate him. I know they say that Clawstar is a monster, but Scourgepaw? He's something else." She flinched again. "Thanks for helping out."  
Both Twilightpaw and Cloakedpaw shrugged this time. "I won't say it was nothing, but I couldn't really have done anything else," Twilightpaw told her.  
Shiverpaw managed a shadow of a smile. "You really want to meet the Children of the Dark, right?"  
"No!" she protested, then remembered her thoughts earlier. "Well, yes. But that isn't why I saved you. Or at least it's not the only reason."  
Cloakedpaw stiffened and tilted his ears back. "What? What is it?" Twilightpaw demanded of him.  
"I hear cats running," he said slowly. "Lots of cats. Do you think…"  
"Either that, or…" Twilightpaw didn't even want to mention the possibility of HollowClan having back-up. She scented the air, but blood was clogging her glands. She turned back to Shiverpaw. "You should go home. You need treatment."

"RainClan's medicine cat is here," Shiverpaw pointed out. "And I'm not going anywhere until our kits are found. Besides, I doubt I could make it even if I wanted to."  
"It's all right!" a cat called from far behind them. "I smell the other Clans!"  
Hope surged in Twilightpaw's chest, a feeling like a breeze of starlight. Sure enough, as the drumming of paws on sand and rock grew louder, the scents of four Clans surged strongly towards the battle-weary warriors.  
Sensing that this was a battle they could no longer possibly win, many of the outrunners took the opportunity to run while they still had a chance. The Clans swooped down upon HollowClan, trapping them with their backs to other Clan territories. If they wanted to run, they'd have a long journey home.  
HollowClan tried one last, desperate attack, charging with all stops pulled. Twilightpaw looked for some non-violent way she could help her Clan, and saw Longpaw instead.  
He was stalking a HollowClan apprentice, a big black tom that was himself trying to creep up on a warrior who had his back turned. The apprentice's scent seemed familiar, and Twilightpaw tried to place it. Before she could do so, Longpaw sprang.

He landed squarely on the tom's back, catching him completely by surprise. Instead of trying to throw him off, or rolling to crush him, the tom suddenly dropped to his belly and screamed. His head thrashed, and Twilightpaw saw his face. It was Ravenpaw, the sweeter of the two HollowClan brothers.  
Ravenpaw didn't even try to fight Longpaw—he screamed again, and his voice was cut off halfway through as he began to pant with his tongue lolling like a dog. Cats did not pant except in heatwaves; everywhere else it was as unnatural as eating tree bark, a sure sign that something was wrong.  
Longpaw was bewildered by this strange behaviour and gingerly stepped off his opponent, clearly ready for a trap. Twilightpaw walked to his side for the same reason, though she could tell from Ravenpaw's shadow that violence was the last thing on his mind.  
Ravenpaw's head drooped, as though his neck had become too heavy for his shoulders to support; his left leg spasmed and he whimpered several times in pain. Suddenly his whole body began to thrash and writhe, and by this point in time almost every cat in the vicinity had stopped their fights to watch him.

Ravenpaw took in a deep breath, spluttered it out, breathed in again, and started coughing. Red spittle flew from his lips, turning into a sticky stream that flowed from his throat and onto the already stained grass. He choked on the sanguine fluid, which began to froth and collect around his cheeks and jawline. He sneezed, and cats everywhere took a step back as a gush of blood erupted from his nostrils with every breath outwards.  
Twilightpaw wanted to look away, with every strand of her being. She did not want to watch. But Ravenpaw held her gaze like a shining monster's night-eyes, and her eyes were fixed helplessly on him as he spasmed again and threw his head back, struggling for breath, choking on the liquid that had helped his life flow only minutes before. It took him a little over two minutes to stop struggling, and his face came to rest in a pool of his own blood.

Nobody moved. No-one spoke. There was nothing they could say, though the more religious ones among them had plenty to think about. Ravenpaw and his brother were the last of SnowClan; stolen from their mother's belly heartbeats before her throat was slit. A young HollowClan apprentice had died under horrific circumstances mere hours after a BrokenClan kit had given up her struggle. And Twilightpaw just stood still and watched, paralysed by shock and horror, as the violet-eyed tomcat who'd been kind to her at the Gathering became nothing more than a chunk of flesh and bone in the blood-stained grass. His shadow was dead beside him, unmoving and lifeless.  
The crowd parted and Redpaw stumbled forwards. He came to a halt in front of Ravenpaw's body, and gently nudged his brother, and Twilightpaw felt her heart break for him.  
"Come on, Ravenpaw," he said hoarsely. "The battle's over. Get up so that we can go home." He pushed him again, slightly harder. "Come on. Get up."

Redpaw was blind, lost, unable to believe that the cat he'd been closest to was now no more than memories. Ravenpaw _was _Redpaw, the kindness he'd never been able to express, the light to his heat. The cat who had brushed aside Redpaw's darkness and forgiven him for his arrogant ways, the cat who had never spoken a word against him, the cat who had seen past his red eyes and bloody fur into whatever lay beneath. That was Ravenpaw, and he could not be dead, because if he was, then half of Redpaw was dead too and whatever was left behind was not fit to be seen by anyone.  
Redpaw looked up and saw Longpaw.  
Longpaw, who was standing so still and quiet that he too might have died standing up, whose eyes were glassy with horror, who was split between sickened denial and shattered grief for a cat that he'd never met, never wanted to hurt, and yet had ended up responsible for his death anyway.

"You," Redpaw growled, taking several steps forwards, "you killed him."  
"I…I didn't mean…oh, StarClan, I'm sorry," Longpaw whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."  
Redpaw unsheathed his claws and roared, a splintering sound of rage and loss, and he charged at Longpaw, bellowing, "You son of a bitch! You killed him! I'LL KILL YOU!"  
Longpaw did not turn away, merely covering his head with a forepaw, but a HollowClan warrior grabbed Redpaw and pulled him backwards. Redpaw thrashed and screamed, but he was tired—they all were tired—and eventually he stopped and lay quiet in the warrior's grip. The warrior carefully let him go, still keeping his jaws relatively close to the apprentice's scruff.  
"I mean it," Redpaw said, his voice harsh with hatred, "I'll kill you. You just watch me."  
"But not today," Rapidstar said. His hindquarters were patchy and blood ran sticky trickles through the remaining fur. "No more fighting today. No more war. Take your cats home and mourn your dead, Clawstar, and think about what you've done while you bury that fine apprentice." Rapidstar turned away.

Twilightpaw pushed her nose into Longpaw's shoulder, and he turned and rested his head on hers. "It wasn't your fault, Longpaw," she murmured gently to him. "I don't know how he died, but I know that much. I was watching. You didn't do anything wrong."  
"I never meant to kill him." Longpaw's voice was hoarse. "I just…just wanted to stop him."  
"I know. I know," she told him.  
"Are we leaving, too?" Valiantpaw asked, appearing by her side.  
Silvertail overheard. "Not for a while yet," the silver tabby said. "We still have to track down the outrunners and chase them beyond our borders before their trails get cold."  
"I want to go home," Longpaw said. "Please. I just want to sleep."  
"You can't go on your own," Silvertail said calmly, though Twilightpaw noted that she was not really protesting. "The forest is still dangerous, and you smell of blood."

"I'll go with him," Twilightpaw offered instantly. "You don't need me here."  
"I'll leave that judgement for Rapidstar, if it's all the same," Silvertail replied, and padded off, hopefully in search of him.  
Despite the warm weather and his thick fur, Longpaw was shivering badly; Twilightpaw pressed tightly against him. She still felt numb. The battle was already fading to half-memories, perhaps because they contained things about Scourgepaw and Redpaw and Ravenpaw, cats that she just wanted to forget. Strangely, she thought about the Children of the Dark, who must remember every battle, every soul lost, every darkness unveiled.  
As she had that thought, her hare pricked his ears, and she followed his gaze to find the little BrokenClan kit shadow. It was watching three warriors walk through the trees, one carrying a kit in his jaws. As the kit passed from sight, the shadow turned to look at her. Shadows had no mouths or eyes with which to show expression, but she got the bizarre idea that if this shadow could, she would be smiling.

She glanced down at the hare, and noted that his wings had shrunk and his horns had swelled. That seemed significant, somehow, but she was too weary to decipher it properly.  
A HollowClan cat that smelt of herbs and starlight was treading towards Ravenpaw's corpse. With infinite gentleness she tilted the gore-streaked head and pushed gently down on his chest. She bit her lip and stepped back.  
"How did he die?" Twilightpaw asked before she could stop herself. Some part had to know, for both her sake and Longpaw's.  
She looked up, and her grey eyes met Twilightpaw's brown ones. "I've seen this before. His heart was damaged, and all the blood leaked out of it."  
"His _heart_? How?"

She hesitated. "My guess? He was born with a mutated heart. When a cat exercises or is scared, the heart starts beating faster. That's normal. But in this poor tom's case, his heart began to beat irregularly—a palpitation. It was missing beats, going too quickly, and in the end it just couldn't take it and part of it burst. All the blood went into his lungs, and that's why it was coming out of his mouth and nose." Her eyes glimmered with sympathy at Longpaw. "This isn't your fault. It would have happened sooner or later—whether in battle, or running too fast, or just being frightened. It always does, what with the lifestyle Clan cats lead. I've never known a case to make it to adulthood."  
"But it had to happen when I jumped on him," Longpaw said dully.  
The she-cat padded away for a few moments, then returned with a mouthful of tiny, aromatic, leaves and stems, and pushed it to his feet. "Here, eat this. It's thyme—good for shock. You should have some too," she added to Twilightpaw, who hesitated before swallowing a taste of it. The flavour was strange; slightly bitter but overall quite pleasant. Her head seemed to clear slightly, and the numbness lifted.

"In the older days," the medicine cat murmured, and Twilightpaw got the feeling that it was solely for her ears, "thyme was given as a gift to warriors by their mates, because it boosts courage before a battle. After it, they would scatter fresh hawthorn leaves into a pool of water, which the fighters would drink out of, because every battle hurts the spirit of a cat, and hawthorn is meant to heal broken hearts."  
Twilightpaw had no idea why she was being told this, but she decided it was a mystery to solve later. "Why are you helping us?" she asked instead. "You're the HollowClan medicine cat."  
The she-cat shrugged. "I like helping cats. It's why I became a healer in the first place." She paused. "Everyone has a reason for the things they do, even if we don't understand it."  
Twilightpaw remained silent as this, because she was now thinking of mutations and reminding herself that there were other things to find out than the identity of her mother and mental sickness. Eventually the medicine cat walked away, and Silvertail took her place.

"Come along, then," she said with a hint of fatigue. "I have to go with you."  
"Is Valiantpaw coming?" Twilightpaw asked.  
Her foster-mother shook her head. "He isn't as exhausted or injured as some of the others and he's a good tracker. They need him here. Let's go."  
Longpaw was swaying on his feet. He had not responded to anything in his surroundings for quite some time, although the thyme had taken some of the glassiness from his eyes.  
Silvertail studied him and shook her head. "Lean on me, Longpaw," she sighed, and gestured with her tail for Twilightpaw to support his other side.  
They set off, and time began to blur for Twilightpaw—the journey back to the moorland could have taken hours or minutes; she would never know. The hare loped alongside them, his shadow gently nudging Longpaw's onwards, who was prone to lagging behind until it was almost out of sight.  
Twilightpaw said to Silvertail, "Does it get any easier?"

The she-cat was silent for a few more steps, before speaking. "Yes or no, depending on who you are. Fighting, killing, has never been an issue for me. I spare them when I can and slay them when I must, but at the end of the sun I don't care about those other cats; they're not of my Clan and one less of them means more safety for us. But I know most cats aren't like that. They either love war or they hate it. Sometimes they reverse their opinions throughout their lives. Those who lust after war desire the simplicity of it—the lack of thought and judgement—or the power they hold over life and death. It's not as though they like causing suffering…they just become desensitized to the consequences of their actions.  
"The cats who hate war are often more vocal about it; pacifism is a popular mindset particularly among the…how should I say…less orthodox Clans, in particular RainClan and BrokenClan. Sometimes they fight to end all wars, foolish and impossible though that might be. Peace is all very well in principle, but there is no peace without freedom, and no cat who claims to be part of a Clan is truly free, so there will always be a war of some sort. Then there are those who fight because they must, but they hate it, and every time they spill blood a part of them is lost as well. In the end those are just driven out for being weak-hearted. If you are one of those, Twilightpaw, I would suggest you hide it well."

Twilightpaw nodded, and realized at the same time that most of Valiantpaw's opinions and thoughts were a diluted form of Silvertail's. Perhaps it was not a bad thing at heart, for though Silvertail was ruthless in her politics, they made sense once you'd thought them through.  
They arrived at the LightningClan camp, where Moonpelt fussed around them, cleaning their wounds and emanating sympathy. Dreamcloud, the kits, and the elders badgered them for the rest of the time. Twilightpaw was in no mood to speak of the battle, so she left it to Silvertail and answered questions addressed to her in a monotone, using as few words as possible. At last it was over, and Moonpelt directed them to sleep. Twilightpaw briefly wondered if she should ask Moonpelt about hawthorn, but then just as quickly dismissed it. Another day.

She and Longpaw settled down into their nests, and Longpaw fell asleep almost instantly without a word to her. Though she too longed for slumber, she remained alert, her eyes fixed on Longpaw as she waited, to perform the service that he had done so often for her, to soothe him through the inevitable nightmares that would stalk him now and forever.


	15. Who You Are

**Moon of the Flowering Trees, 1****st**** Sun**

**Hello all—I'm back at school, now, so apologies for the slower update times, now and in future. I'm also aiming for longer chapters, so that will take more time, too.  
In response to a request, the Kingdom/Clan calendar is as follows:  
January—Moon of Blue Snows  
February—Moon of the Fading Darkness  
March—Moon of First Green  
April—Moon of the Scented Hills  
May—Moon of the Flowering Trees  
June—Moon of First Heat  
July—Moon of the Hot Sun  
August—Moon of Storms  
September—Moon of the Rutting Stags  
October—Moon of Red Leaves  
November—Moon of the Cold Wind  
December—Moon of the Growing Frost**

And life did what life always does—it went on.  
Longpaw was openly depressed for two full days, though he would probably keep the pain in the most secret part of his heart for much longer, if not forever. For two days he stumbled weakly through his training, paying attention to nothing and no-one, barely eating, mostly sleeping. He never spoke and his eyes were dull with the tears he could not shed.

On the third day—the day of Twilightpaw's illicit meeting with Shiverpaw—he was better. Perhaps he had some sort of revelation in the moments he spent wishing for sleep, or maybe a StarClan warrior had wasted a precious moment to feel compassion for him and sent him a cathartic dream.  
Or perhaps it was simply that he was a cat, and that it was in the nature of cats to forget what causes them pain. The memories of wild animals are notoriously bad. This is because they are exposed to grief and suffering on a disturbingly regular basis, and if they broke their hearts over each and every death and loss they would go mad or have nothing left within them to feel. Feelings of misery and guilt are like secret, hidden wounds, injuries of what the Kingdom cats of old would call the _cyth—_the identity, the part that is solely you and no-one else. If you think on them too much, they become infected and can do you great harm. Wild animals do not have time for depression and suicide—they're too busy fighting for their species' survival, so if the beast in question is unable to resolve his feelings on his own initiative, their minds effectively cauterize their _cyth_ wounds through forgetting. The animal forgets; the animals around him forget; and eventually is as though the event never took place, except as a small scar in the _cyth_ of the animal. Like any scar, it can hurt now and again, usually manifesting as sharp shocks of feeling or nightmares, though the animal will never again be consciously aware of how those nightmares came to be, unless of course they are reminded by one who does remember.

Twilightpaw did not forget Ravenpaw, and nor did Valiantpaw, Silvertail, or Redpaw, but then, they were hardly normal examples of their species. And eventually, as RainClan warriors raised litters, and those kits learned to read the memories of their parents, the Children of the Dark would note the name of Ravenpaw—perhaps even the name of the dead BrokenClan kit, if any knew it—and pass it on to the future medicine cats of HollowClan, so that whenever there was a similar case those cats could seek him out in the stars and possibly gain enough information to save a life.  
As she whiled away the hours between dawn and dusk, Twilightpaw tried to find out everything that was known about the Children of the Dark. This was not easy, for they did not socialize with any cats outside RainClan, so much of what she heard was gossip and conjuncture.

They dwelt in RainClan territory, though not, apparently, within their camp. Most Dark Children were RainClan cats; the kits were routinely 'tested' (the form of this test was unknown) and any that showed signs of an unusually powerful memory was taken as a Child. There were rumours about this taking—some said that it was the sort of initiation that occurred in the night hours, without parental knowledge or consent, and certainly no choice was given to the kit. This was, those same tongues said, because no right-minded cat would ever choose to become a Child of the Dark.  
However, Children of the Dark were not exclusively RainClan. As Twilightpaw had half-jokingly suggested to Skykit, who was now Skypaw, cats who had obtained their warrior name could apply for membership of this enigmatic order. Regardless of their memory power, these cats were usually accepted, but since Children of the Dark did not go to Gatherings, nobody could ever say for sure what happened to them.

Of their actual lifestyle, Twilightpaw knew nothing. She gathered from their title that they weren't fluffy rabbits that danced in the sunlight, but she found it hard to associate them with anything truly sinister. They had good memories. So what? So did she. She didn't perform cannibal sacrifices in the dead of the night (Dreamcloud) or just sit in a cave waiting for food to be brought to her (Burningfur).  
Moonpelt had been the most informative source, having been closer to them than any other LightningClan cat, although Twilightpaw always had to be careful about asking questions of the tabby; she was far too perceptive. Earlier in the morning, she had paid the medicine cat a visit.  
"In a way," Moonpelt said, sorting herbs with the melancholy Skypaw by her side, "Children of the Dark are like inverted medicine cats. They don't heal, of course, at least not that I've heard of, but they can speak with the dead. The main difference between us and them is that they walk in more shadowy realms than medicine cats."  
"You mean like the Dark Forest?" Twilightpaw said, trying to hide her scorn.  
"Oh! I wouldn't say they go _that _far. It's too dangerous a place; very easy to get lost, or worse, possessed. Or so my mentor told me—I've never seen it. But wherever they go, it isn't StarClan, and that's a fact."

"What, are they allergic to starlight or something?"  
"I think they just don't see a need to go there. That's what my colleagues and I are here for, after all."  
Then Skypaw spoke, with a surprisingly good question. "But what spirits do they talk to, then? Aren't there only two places that Clan souls go—StarClan and the Dark Forest?"  
Moonpelt shrugged. "I don't know. The closest thing to communication I've had with them is when they pass messages onto me through the RainClan medicine cat, saying I should go to this place or tell this to that cat." She shrugged.  
Now Twilightpaw was intensely curious. "They know you don't see StarClan?"  
"It's not common knowledge, Twilightpaw," Moonpelt said with a slight edge to her voice. "Certainly no-one in RainClan knows it. But they've never given me names of any spirits to contact, like they did with my mentor. So maybe they do."  
"What happens when you do as they say?"  
Moonpelt's eyes shadowed. "That's knowledge for me, and me alone."  
Her gaze was becoming slightly suspicious, so Twilightpaw decided to let the matter go, and walked out of the den. She called out to Burningfur that she wanted to go hunting, and her mentor dismissed her with a flick of her ear. To Twilightpaw's surprise, Skypaw had followed her out of the den and asked with a diffident tone if she could accompany her.

She was torn. On one paw, she normally loathed the idea of any cat other than Burningfur and her two friends watching her hunt; anyone else seemed to be unable to refrain from making unhelpful judgements and comments. Twilightpaw did those things too, of course, but she kept her mouth shut. She also liked her privacy, and those hunts were one of the few times she could get it. Although cats are social, at heart they are solitary hunters and dislike distractions during the vital tasks of stalking and chasing.  
On the other, Skypaw was hardly likely to have something to say about Twilightpaw's hunting tactics, as she'd never done it herself. The tabby apprentice knew the little cat admired her greatly, as any female kit would to the older she-kit in the nursery. The fact that Twilightpaw had proven herself against the males and was the only cat who could be snarky to Burningfur and get away with it had elevated her further. Unlike Longpaw and Valiantpaw, and even Cloudpaw as he grew up a bit, Skypaw was crushed by Twilightpaw's sarcasm and teasing. The blue-grey cat had a vulnerable soul and it was too easy to hurt her feelings.

"Okay," Twilightpaw relented. "You can come. But don't distract me, all right?"  
Skypaw managed a small smile and wandered after the older she-cat. "I'll need to be looking for herbs, anyway," she murmured softly.  
"Any in particular?"  
"Goldenrod. It's very good for infections, but there's been so many injuries that we've run low."  
"I meant to ask, how have you been coping with that? Seeing all the cats hurt?"  
The smile faded from Skypaw's lips. "Not well," she said at last. "Most of the time I just pretend I'm being controlled by someone else so I don't have to think that I'm the one hurting them."  
Twilightpaw blinked at this, for part of her madness was imagining that her body was being moved by other forces, and it made her feel a little sick inside to think of Skypaw wanting the same thing.  
Skypaw and Twilightpaw were enigmas to each other, and perhaps that was what truly drew them. Ever since she was talking and walking Skypaw had presented to Twilightpaw the image of a cat who, even more than herself, was totally unsuited for Clan life. She loathed violence in all its forms, both as a warrior creating it and as a medicine cat tending to it. Someone like Skypaw should be a Twolegkit, where her sensitive ways would be considered normal, but someone like Skypaw would never consider such a thing.

Eventually, however, fate itself would step in, probably in the form of Rapidstar. As Silvertail had coldly proclaimed, any cat who was discovered to have Skypaw's revulsion to fighting would eventually be exiled from LightningClan. Moonpelt could—and hopefully would—protect her for at least the period of her apprenticeship, but if Skypaw didn't shed her feelings about war by the time she became a full medicine cat then she would be facing a very uncertain future. And although Twilightpaw hated the idea of Skypaw being forced to discard with part of her identity simply to ensure what should be hers anyway, part of her had to agree with the Clan's logic. A medicine cat that didn't like treating injuries was not only nearly useless but dangerous to them all.  
"How's Cloudpaw doing?" Twilightpaw asked when the silence between them stretched too long.  
Skypaw visibly brightened as the conversation steered away from herself, and added with more confidence, "Oh, he's doing fine. Great, in fact. He says that Whisperhunt is a great mentor, even if it's a little hard to understand him at times." At the last few words her voice took on an unconsciously cynical tone, and Twilightpaw made a mental note to ask Moonpelt to stop airing her opinions where her impressionable and already suspected apprentice could hear and echo them.  
A rustle in the heather bushes up to their left caused them both to freeze in place, and instinctively they cocked their heads to trace the noise. Rabbit.

Twilightpaw slid like a shadow over water through the long grass, her brown pelt darkening as a cloud's edge cloaked her. She got within a fox-length of the rabbit before it detected her and darted off. Twilightpaw shot after it in pursuit, her stocky legs pushing her body through the more tangled sections of moorland where the rabbit had to manoeuvre around. Abruptly she swerved and changed direction on a course that took her far out of the rabbit's reach. Too stupid to suspect guile, the rabbit froze and crouched, and by the time it realized the trap Twilightpaw had already pivoted and leaped onto its back, crunching her teeth into its neck.  
She carried the limp body back to Skypaw, who looked slightly sickened at the blood bubbling from the gashes in its neck. Twilightpaw suppressed a sigh.  
"Good catch, Twilightpaw," came a voice from over the moor. Twilightpaw glanced up to meet the newly-named Crimsonflame. Wolfclaw trailed a little way behind her, looking disgruntled, and Twilightpaw wondered if maybe he'd been tracking the rabbit too.

"Thank you," she replied half-heartedly, and not trusting herself to keep away from fights, turned to Skypaw. "We should move on, there won't be any more rabbits in this area for a while."  
Skypaw nodded a little. "No goldenrod, either."  
"The place by the willows and the river is crawling with them right now. Rabbits, that is," Crimsonflame said with a smile. Twilightpaw tensed her spine and felt her hackles begin to rise, certain that there was mockery in the she-cat's voice. Then she remembered what Valiantpaw had said about her finding the venom behind all kind words, and forced herself to relax. If Crimsonflame was really secretly mocking her, let two play at that game.  
"Thanks, Crimsonflame," she said lightly. "Do you want to come? I'm sure you'll catch more than me."  
A shadow fell across the she-cat's face, and she tilted her head to look at her brother. He glowered and shook his head slightly, and she sighed and flicked him away with her tail. He turned in the direction of camp and started walking, though not before shooting one last glare their way.

Twilightpaw observed this, and could not help but be impressed at two things; firstly, that the siblings understood each other so well that they didn't need words, and secondly that Crimsonflame dominated her brother to the point that he didn't argue with her even as a nestmate would.  
Crimsonflame caught up with the two apprentices as they padded away, her long legs crossing the distance between them easily. She had grown into a lovely she-cat, ginger with darker red patches dappling her hindquarters and two spots of black edging her fine-boned face, and Twilightpaw observed that if Longpaw and Valiantpaw really wanted "dibs" on her, they'd better get in quick before another tom stole her away.  
"Twilightpaw," Crimsonflame said, "I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry."  
"About?" Twilightpaw replied, knowing exactly what.  
"The…the stuff I said to you the day before the battle. I didn't really mean to be such a bitch, but I was just angry about missing out on my warrior ceremony. Then Wolfclaw said that you were probably going to get picked for the battle instead of us because Burningfur was your mentor, and, well…I don't know." She shrugged.

"That's…um, it's fine. I'd almost forgotten about it anyway. And I think I was a bit out of line too," Twilightpaw replied, falling back on lies as she always did when she was uncertain of herself. "I take it that Wolfclaw doesn't agree with you?"  
Crimsonflame looked over her shoulder to where he had been before. "Well…you've got to understand, he's not usually like that. Normally he's a decent sort of tom. But he was annoyed too and you seem to bring out the worst in him."  
"Yeah," she replied. It was an observation that was applied to her more often than it really should. She'd change her ways one day, when she had a bit of spare time to kill.  
"That stuff he says about mutants, he doesn't mean it. It's just what he's been hearing from Mother and Father since the day he was born, and whenever he says it they both laugh and they don't laugh often. He thinks that they're disappointed in him."

"Okay," Twilightpaw said, unsure of how to respond. She didn't really want Crimsonflame giving up this much information about her brother.  
"Again, because you hate understanding cats—it makes it more difficult for you to dislike them," the hare murmured.  
Crimsonflame shook her fur as though dislodging unwelcome thoughts. "Anyway, I've talked to him and he's agreed to give you another chance. I'd like you to do that, too."  
The audacity! How dare she? Worse still was that Crimsonflame had outmanoeuvred her just as she had done to the rabbit earlier; Twilightpaw could not now refuse the older cat's offer of peace without looking spiteful and unreasonable in front of Skypaw. Twilightpaw choked down her flare of rage, bit back several searing remarks and forced her pelt to be still. She considered that an improvement from her younger days; she'd probably have clawed out Crimsonflame's eyes if she had made that offer a few weeks ago.

"As long as he does," she said at last.  
"That's all I ask," Crimsonflame said, sounding relieved. She padded away in the other direction to them, tail flicking.  
"You were lying to her, weren't you?" Skypaw said quietly once she had gone. "You're not going to forgive Wolfclaw."  
Twilightpaw curled her lip. "He's been a jerk to me since he laid eyes on me. You saw the way he glared earlier. I doubt he'll change his ways just because his sister says so."  
"Why didn't you just say that to Crimsonflame, then?"  
Twilightpaw glanced down at the little she-cat. "Because she wouldn't believe me," she said at last. "Cats like Crimsonflame, they always think they're right, even when you point out to them that they aren't. It's easier to just let them go about their business."  
"But she knows Wolfclaw better than you do," Skypaw said. "Better than anyone else, really. If she thinks that he's nicer than he seems, then he probably is."  
"Skypaw…niceness isn't an internal quality. If you act nice, then you are nice. It doesn't matter if Wolfclaw's secretly in love with me on the inside. He's tried to bully me as long as I can remember, and that makes him a bully, which is why I don't want to spend any more time with him than I have to."

Skypaw nodded, but was unable to repress a flash of doubt in her eyes. Twilightpaw gritted her teeth and was reminded forcibly of why she did not like taking cats hunting with her.  
The spent the afternoon in a rather more peaceful manner, with Twilightpaw catching plenty of prey and Skypaw finding her precious goldenrod. By unspoken consent they did not discuss anything that really mattered, but as they were both the sort of cat that rarely spoke at all unless it was important, they spent most of it in a slightly uncomfortable silence. Twilightpaw had the strange feeling that by merely being around Skypaw she was corrupting the impressionable she-cat with her cynicism, tempestuousness and unkindness; as though _she _were the darkness that had formed the medicine cat apprentice's shadow. She couldn't bring herself to do anything about it, although she supposed that she had some form of duty as a role model to Skypaw.  
On the way back, as the sun slowly sank over the horizon and Twilightpaw was carrying her last rabbit, Skypaw spoke suddenly.

"Are you going somewhere tonight, Twilightpaw?"  
Twilightpaw's mouth was too full of rabbit fur to reply, so she merely shrugged her shoulders. It wasn't like it was forbidden for her to leave, but she didn't really want it widely known. But few cats paid much attention to Skypaw anyway.  
"It's just that I had a dream last night. A black tom with strange eyes came up to me and said that I needed to help you leave camp tonight."  
Twilightpaw stopped and dropped the rabbit. "Strange eyes?"  
"They were…I don't know how to describe them. Like heather, I guess, but different. Blue-purple."  
"Violet," Twilightpaw corrected almost absentmindedly, and added, "The cat you saw is named Ravenpaw."  
"Ravenpaw…the HollowClan cat that Longpaw…?"  
"The HollowClan cat that died of a heart attack," Twilightpaw finished firmly. "Longpaw had nothing to do with it."

"But I thought…" Confusion clouded her blue eyes, as though she were mentally scanning each memory for scraps of truth.  
"You thought wrong," Twilightpaw said with more force. "Ravenpaw died of a heart attack. Longpaw was nowhere near him when it happened." Although she usually disliked manipulating the bad memories of other cats in this manner, sometimes it was necessary. The last thing Longpaw needed was any stigma from this following him.  
Skypaw seemed to come to a conclusion. "Yeah. Yeah, I knew that. I don't even know why I said Longpaw's name."  
"What else did Ravenpaw say?" Twilightpaw pushed onwards.

"That I had to help you leave camp…and that he didn't blame…him." Again Skypaw's eyes fogged. "Who's him?"  
"It doesn't matter."  
"Oh. Um, watch out for Redpaw. That's the last thing he said. Watch out for Redpaw because he'll be changed. Make sure he'll be safe."  
"He said that to me, or to you?"  
"He told me to tell you that. Keep Redpaw safe."  
Twilightpaw couldn't even begin to image how a brute like Redpaw needed any sort of protection, much less from a lower apprentice half his weight, but she didn't press the matter. Dreams of StarClan, without even being formally accepted into the ranks of the medicine cats. How quaint. She knew better than to believe them, of course.  
"Where actually _are _you going?" Skypaw pressed.

Twilightpaw shrugged again. "Somewhere else."  
The blue-grey cat hesitated, but accepted the non-answer without complaint. Twilightpaw picked up her rabbit and headed back to camp, and neither of them spoke again that sun.  
Later that night, Twilightpaw emerged from the apprentices' den into a world of shadow.  
Shadow was a misleading term, of course. Darkness and shadow were two entirely different things; speakers just used the words interchangeably. Darkness was the absence of all light. In a sense, darkness was life's way of perceiving nothing, of taking a concept impossible for most to grasp—total and utter emptiness—and shaping it into something that could easily fit into even the smallest animal's brain. Thoughts shaped nothing, reached out into the blank space where nothing inhabited, and changed it into darkness. When you look into an empty, sunless place, like the depths of a cave, you don't think of it as looking into nothingness, although that is exactly what you _are _staring at. You think of it as darkness. Complete darkness is the essence of nothing.

Shadows, on the other paw, are something. If the world was empty there would be no shadows, except for of course the shadow of the world itself that plays across the moon's handsome face and allows us to measure time. Shadows are created by light. Shadows are made when light spreads her gentle fingers over something and leaves a spot of black behind. Some would call this darkness, but it is not darkness, because darkness hides things, and shadows hide nothing. You could throw a key into the bottom of the ocean, and eventually the darkness would swallow it and you would never see it again, but if you simply threw it into a shadow you would still see it quite clearly. You can't even hide things in the shadow of the world, for if you look hard enough you can see the edge of the moon during a new moon phase or an eclipse.  
Shadows are purity in its truest form; unlike sunlight, they cause no harm to anyone; unlike life, they do not hide or deceive, and unlike anything else in the universe, they feed on light without reflecting it.

As Twilightpaw picked her way through the camp, trying to keep her pawsteps light and more or less succeeding, she came across Skypaw huddled a little way away from the camp entrance.  
"Hi," Twilightpaw said in a careful voice. Surely the apprentice wasn't going to go with her? Just because of a dream? That was the last thing she wanted—Shiverpaw would never agree to take a random stranger on their bizarre journey.  
Skypaw faked a smile, although her whiskers were trembling. "I'm here to help you get out," she said in a lower voice. "I'm going to distract the sentry."  
"There's nothing illegal about what I'm doing, you know," Twilightpaw pointed out. "One of the Amendments to the Code—I forget which one, exactly—but it says that the Clan leader has no right to confine cats to camp except in punishment or if they truly believe that the cat in question's life would be in danger if he or she left."  
"It might not be illegal, but it'll still be suspicious, and that's the last thing you need. They might even try to follow you."

Twilightpaw hadn't thought of that. "I guess. Do your thing, then."  
"Wait until I sweep my tail," Skypaw said, before calling out the guard's name. It was Runningflash. Twilightpaw watched the apprentice babble on about needing to check a wound he'd picked up in the battle before swinging her tail wildly. As Skypaw reared up to block his view, Twilightpaw slipped past. There was still the matter of how she'd get back in, but if she reappeared sometime around dawn with a few rabbits she could claim she was practising her night-hunting techniques. The sentry would have changed by then, so she could simply say that she had left before that switch. If needs must she could get corroboration through Burningfur, who seemed to have no problem with lying to cats for the hell of it providing she got favours from Twilightpaw in return.

The night was cool and still, without even a breath of wind, and Twilightpaw felt her mind relax as she stepped through its embrace. Without so much as a touch of moonlight to embellish the moorland, there was only the stars, and the light they shed was dim enough to transform the environment to something new and unfamiliar and beautiful. Twilightpaw had no idea why cats couldn't just look at the stars and admire them for what they were; beautiful points of light in the skies. Why did they have to imagine silly things like dead cats living among them? A tree was lovely enough without pretending that there were spirits in the trunk.  
"They are like the world, and you and I are like the moon—we always turn only one side to them, and they think there is no other, because they don't see it—but there is," the hare said quietly.  
After Twilightpaw and the hare had walked in peace for a time, she heard a movement in the world beyond her.

She stopped. "I heard you. Come out."  
Silence.  
"I know you're there, and I can tell from that sound you made that you're big enough to understand me. Hurry up. I have places to go. Don't make me drag you out."  
The moor rustled again, and a shape slipped out into the faint starlight, and Twilightpaw blinked as she met the luminous eyes of a tom who was far more handsome than he really had a right to be.  
"Who are you and what do you want?" she said with blunt impatience.  
"Do you want the long answers or the short ones?"  
"Short, if it's at all possible. And I do mean short."  
The tom paused for a few heartbeats, then said, "I don't have a name. And I don't want anything from you."  
"Why are you following me?"  
He shrugged. "Because I wanted to?"  
She was unimpressed. "Okay, that's incredibly creepy. Get lost."

The tom seemed to hesitate again, and she added, "Or I swear to StarClan I will tell my mentor, and she and my leader will tear this territory apart to find you, and then they'll have your head on a stick, and I'll point out your skull to all the kits of the future so they can learn how not to have your unfortunate stupidity."  
He laughed. "See, that's why I like you. You're not like other she-cats. You say what you mean."  
"You like me so much that you stalk me in the bushes when you think I don't see? Charming."  
"What else could I do? You're always surrounded by your two guard dogs. Anything I should know about there?"  
"Can you go stick your head in a foxhole already? It hasn't even been five minutes and already I'm sick of your voice. Besides, I've been on my own plenty of times. In _daylight._"  
He smiled. "Yes, but you're always hunting then, and I don't want to distract you. You're at your most beautiful then, you know."  
Although Twilightpaw wasn't insecure about her plain looks, she didn't like to be mocked because of them either. "Gosh, I wonder why she-cats aren't swarming all over you if you always throw out things like that. Go away, whatever your name is."

"I told you, I don't have one. My mother died before she got that far. Most just call me Cat."  
Twilightpaw gave him a withering look. "That's a ridiculous name. Cat? I bet they named you that especially to annoy me."  
"You can call me something else if you want," he suggested. "I promise to never answer to anything else."  
Twilightpaw thought for a fleeting moment. "Okay, henceforth I dub you Fluffy. Now, Fluffy, keep walking."  
For the first time he lost his ridiculous smirk. "Fluffy? Really?"  
"You promised to answer to nothing else. From now on, if anyone asks you your name, you have to tell them that it's Fluffy. That's your punishment." He was a little older than Longpaw, when all was said and done, and it was too dark to make out his pelt colour.  
"Punishment for what?" Fluffy demanded.  
"For being creepy and stalking me and _not going away._"  
He took three steps to the side. "Fine! I'm going. You know, most she-cats _like _having secret admirers."

"And as you so kindly pointed out earlier, _Fluffy, _I'm not like other she-cats. How did you even find me in the first place?"  
"I can either leave or answer your questions. Not both."  
"You're answering my questions. Then you're leaving."  
Fluffy sighed and mockingly drooped his head. "Cruel, all of you, cruel. Well…you said the name of the Children of the Dark, with intent."  
"So I did. And?"  
"Well, names like that are…charged. When you say them in a certain way—say it as though you have true need of them, as though you're destined to meet with them—it sends out ripples into the universe. Cats that are sensitive enough to the ways of spirits can feel those ripples. The really good ones can track them back to the cat or wolf or owl who said it."  
"The Children of the Dark talk to wolves and owls? Never mind. So, you're like a medicine cat, are you? Talking to dead cats?"

Fluffy shook his head. "No and no. I don't speak to the dead. I have no Clan or Kingdom ancestors—I couldn't find your StarClan, even if I wanted to. I prefer the word _ameslari. _In your old tongue, it means "one who dreams." I have dreams of things that have come, and of things that might be. I felt the ripples, ripples that haven't been sent out for years. I found you, then I went to see the Children of the Dark, and they told me to watch you. And when they say stuff like that, you know you've got to do it."  
Twilightpaw eyed him balefully. "Oh, so you were _forced _to stalk me. Why'd you say you wanted to?"  
"BecauseI didn't realize what a nasty, unpleasant she-cat you were to strangers," Fluffy said with some heat. "And by the time I realized you _were_, I was too nice to say anything."  
"Say whatever you want; I don't think enough of you to care. Personally, I think you're more full of crap than a week-old carcass, and I'll tell you that. Oh, and I'll cut you a deal, too. You adhere, and I won't mention your stalking to my mentor."

Fluffy instantly regained his smirk, and cocked his head. "A deal? What sort?"  
Twilightpaw had the briefest of thoughts—perhaps courtesy of her nagging hare—that there was no way this could end well, but she plunged onwards. "I want you to find out everything possible about Deathstar, the DarkClan leader."  
The smile dropped away. "You're serious?"  
"Look into my face, Fluffy, and tell me if you think I'm messing with you. Stalk Deathstar. Find out where she goes, what she does, who she talks to, and most importantly if she's responsible for any murders while she was a Clan warrior. Or hell, if she's responsible for any killings at all."  
Fluffy simply stared. "For the Wolf's sake, why?"  
Twilightpaw tapped her foot impatiently. The night was slipping away while she exchanged pleasantries with an idiot who apparently worshipped wolves. "As a favour for a friend."

"We're friends now?"  
"Um, no, moron. _I'm _doing it as a favour for _my _friend. Do it or not, I don't care. I'll derive just as much amusement from your headless rotting corpse."  
Fluffy winced. "All _right. _I'll stalk one of the most dangerous cats in the world. You'll be sorry when I turn up dead." He started to stalk away. "Say hello to the Children for me."  
"I won't. On both counts. By the way, I'm sorry."  
He paused and looked over his shoulder. "For what, exactly?"  
Twilightpaw gave him a sweet smile. "I'm sorry for saying you were more full of crap than a week-old carcass. I was in a bad mood at the time. You see, there was this annoying idiot—anyway, the thing is, it seemed to go right over your head, and I wasn't sure if you'd grasped the insult. That's why I repeated it just now, so that I can be certain. Good night." She started walking away, unimpressed by the curses and swear words he spat after her.

So, the Children of the Dark had known that she was going to meet them. Apparently. Fluffy was hardly a reliable source of information. She'd met toms like him before, both in her Clan and out, who thought they were StarClan's gift to she-cats. The best thing to do was poke enough holes into their ego until they ran away crying.  
The moorland began to rise and become more rocky under her paws as she approached the RainClan border. She became aware of a tangible apprehension in the atmosphere, as though the world were holding its breath. Above her head, the stars watched coldly, as far removed from her troubles as ever.  
A shadow fell across her, very faint and almost impossible to perceive by sight, but she felt its presence like fangs into her flesh. It swirled and gained slight substance, and she knew at once that it was no cat's shadow. Her mind reached towards it, and brushed against a soul that was hot with anger and confusion. The rage clawed at her, the bewilderment softening the blow somewhat; it didn't know why it was angry.

Fear clutched at her, and she tried to pull her consciousness free from the shadow, but to her utter amazement _another mind _plunged through the shadow's substance and held her tight. She cried out aloud in pain, for whatever beast it was, its mind was never intended to mesh with a cat's; the emotions and thoughts of the animal grafted agonizingly against her own. Dimly she was aware of the beast mind's similar discomfort, and she hoped that it would eventually become unbearable enough for it to release her.  
Its curiosity raked her like claws, and she felt it ruthlessly pluck fragments from her mind and examine them. As it did, she pushed forward with her own thoughts, and jerked back from a memory of gore and violence. An ancient sense of danger began to blaze through her veins; a sudden strength was lent to her mind, and she _pulled _her consciousness free. White lights danced behind her eyes and she nearly passed out from the pain, but her last contact with the beast mind was of disinterest. Whatever it was, she was of no importance to it.

A rush of exhaustion, probably a reaction to the sudden fire that had saved her, swamped her limbs, but she refused to stop. She had wasted far too much time as it was; she sensed it was nearly midnight and she hadn't even reached the Children of the Dark yet.  
The soft grass and heather became thorny scrub that pricked at her sides painfully, and she thought with minor longing of the thick pelts and hardened paws of the RainClan cats that protected them from vegetation like this. The stones became sharp and every now and again she had to stop to pull the shards of rock from in between her toes and pads. Above her, just visible in the wan starlight, the hulking mass of the Lonely Bluff loomed over her. The elders' stories went that it had originally been part of the mountains, but one day they decided to get up and leave while the Bluff was still sleeping, so it was left behind forever. They said that after times of heavy rain, water would leak from depressions in the Bluff, as though the stone outcropping was weeping for its loss.

Twilightpaw halted at the boundary between RainClan and LightningClan. The LightningClan scent markers were faint; cats hated patrolling here for obvious reasons, so they tended to rely on physical marks rather than urine and spray. Her eyes scanned the area; the scrub was thick enough to hide a non-moving cat.  
"I'm here," rasped a voice. "You certainly took your time." The peculiar RainClan accent strangely made Twilightpaw feel more at home. Perhaps it was because Silvertail, being the product of a RainClan she-cat, had a hint of it.  
"I was held up," Twilightpaw said with enough asperity to remind Shiverpaw that she would not be pushed around just because she was in unfamiliar lands.  
"Clearly," the mutant she-cat replied.  
"What is your answer to my request?" Twilightpaw pressed, refusing to get tangled into a battle of wits with Shiverpaw. It was not a fight she was certain she would win.  
Shiverpaw's grey eyes glinted slightly. "Shadowstar will escort you to the Children of the Dark. She is waiting at camp."

"Why not you?"  
"I don't know where they are," Shiverpaw responded bluntly. "It is not a secret that is normally shared with apprentices. I told you that usually only warriors are granted permission to see the Dark Children. Can we go? I don't want to keep Shadowstar waiting."  
Twilightpaw nodded and fell into step beside the she-cat. Her pelt was a darker blue-grey than Skypaw's but lighter than Rapidstar's, and her grey eyes made her unusual even if she wasn't a mutant. It was unlikely that she would keep them, unless they were a mutation of their own.  
Time stretched, and Twilightpaw suspected that Shiverpaw was deliberately taking a long route so that Twilightpaw would be unable to find her way to the camp again if she had to. There was no danger of that—the whole place was too damn dark for Twilightpaw to see more than a few fox-lengths forwards and back.

At last the starlight glimmered over a mass of brambles and thorn, and Twilightpaw's eyes widened in amazement. Risingsun had alluded to his camp being blessed with natural defence, but she hadn't imagined anything like this. It was like a cave system, with a maze of tunnels criss-crossing the bramble thicket—each lined with sharp thorns. Twilightpaw betted that only one of those dozens of tunnels actually led to the camp, and that the ones that didn't ended up in a nasty trap or dead end. She was also slightly stunned to think of the pain threshold the HollowClan warrior who had dug into their nursery must have had.  
"Wait here," Shiverpaw said, and Twilightpaw nodded. She had no intention of setting a paw anywhere near those hooked spines. Seemingly oblivious to the brambles, Shiverpaw disappeared down a tunnel.

Twilightpaw waited, and waited, and waited some more, eventually beginning to pace as her patience dissolved like snow under a hot sun. Was Shiverpaw deliberately making her wait to rub her face in or was she having a hard time convincing Shadowstar to come out? She began to count to five hundred, although she was unsure what she would do if she reached the end of it.  
At the two hundredth and twenty sixth number, two phantoms slipped out of the RainClan camp, one larger, one smaller. Twilightpaw sat up slightly straighter, her heart banging painfully with apprehension.  
Shadowstar and Shiverpaw approached, and Twilightpaw wondered if they could be related; there was a certain likeness about their facial bones that suggested it, but it was too dark to truly be sure. Both cats were nearly invisible in the night, though Shadowstar's pale green eyes glittered brighter in the darkness. For a while, the three she-cats studied each other intently.

"Thank you for coming, Shadowstar," Twilightpaw said at last, formally.  
Shadowstar inclined her head ever-so-slightly and turned to Shiverpaw. "You may go."  
Shiverpaw looked unhappy. "But—"  
Shadowstar held up a tail to silence her. "You know the rules as well as I do, dear, and you have early training tomorrow. Best get some sleep while you can."  
Shiverpaw still looked uneasy, and Shadowstar's whiskers twitched. "I'm pretty sure I can handle this one on my own if she turns out to be trouble," she said with a hint of a purr. Twilightpaw felt offended, then amused at her own contrariness. She also found it funny that although she and Shiverpaw had dealings, they didn't truly like one another. She respected the older she-cat's intelligence, but in a way, they were like Valiantpaw and Longpaw—essentially too different at heart to warm to each other.

With a final sigh, Shiverpaw turned away, blending with the night and the thorns in the tunnel until she was gone.  
"Well, Twilightpaw," Shadowstar said, "are you ready?"  
"As I'll ever be," she replied warily.  
"Good. Don't worry, I won't kill you. You don't look worth the trouble." She started to walk, and Twilightpaw kept close to her side, wincing again as the thorns and stone dug into her feet.  
"Don't ask me anything about the Dark Children," warned the RainClan leader. "I cannot tell you. They are the secrets of my Clan and I have sworn to both them and StarClan above that I will not reveal them."  
Twilightpaw wondered if she was aware of what the LightningClan cats said about her enigmatic order. "May I ask you something else, then?"  
Shadowstar shrugged. "You may ask."

"Why did you allow me to see the Children of the Dark?"  
Shadowstar was silent for several fox-lengths.  
"In truth, it was little more than curiosity. Shiverpaw explained to me your…ailment, and I couldn't help but wonder if it were possible that the Children could help you. Although their memories are vast, they can't see everything, particularly what is not there to see. I've never heard of any condition like yours, and to be honest, I expected you to be different than from what you are."  
Twilightpaw couldn't help herself. "You expected me frothing at the mouth and spouting prophecy?"  
"Something like that," admitted the she-cat. "But the second reason is more simple. Your mother was half-RainClan, and that makes you and I blood-kin. We of RainClan have great loyalty to our family."

Twilightpaw felt slightly guilty at allowing this misunderstanding to continue; like most non-LightningClan warriors, Shadowstar assumed that she and Valiantpaw were Silvertail's biological children, for that had been what Rapidstar had announced at the Gathering after their birth. Still, it was getting results, and she really did need to meet with the Children.  
"I've heard of you, Twilightpaw," Shadowstar continued. "My patrols tell me that you have great potential as a warrior, but you don't want to be one. You prefer to wander and hunt than to train and aid your Clan. Do you have outrunner blood?"  
Twilightpaw shrugged. "I guess I'm from all over the place, really. My father's father was an outrunner, and mother's mother was from here." The part about her grandfather was a lie, obviously.

Shadowstar nodded. "Yes, I thought so. Sometimes you get kits like that—bitten by the fangs of adventure. Without fail, they grow up into unique creatures. Keepers of secrets, and seekers of them, too." She hesitated, then said, "If you truly find LightningClan life to be unsuitable for you, there is a place in RainClan for you, and your brother, too. It would not be easy, but perhaps it would be better."  
First DarkClan, now RainClan. Seemingly Twilightpaw was getting offers of refuge left and right. Did she really look that pathetic? "I'll think about it," she assured the Clan leader mildly.  
Shadowstar drew to a halt, Twilightpaw following a few steps after. The grey she-cat's fur was beginning to bristle slightly, and her tail was twitching.

"Here," Shadowstar said, slightly hoarsely. "This is the Shelter of the Dark."  
_Here _was an opening into the side of the Lonely Bluff. Twilightpaw hadn't even realized that they were drawing close to it, so engrossed in her conversation had she been. But here they were, a cave in the side of an outcrop, and the slight breeze brought whispers from the cave mouth to her ears.

_Like antlers, like veins of the brain, the birches  
Make patterns of mind on the cold red sky…  
"I am thought of all plants," said the Green One,  
"I am thought of all plants," said he._

__Twilightpaw shook her mind free of the voices, feeling stabs of apprehension piercing her pelt. She cast a glance at Shadowstar, who took a few steps back.  
"Go in now, Twilightpaw. I will wait here for your return. Be well." She stepped further back.  
Twilightpaw was on her own.  
She stared into the mouth of the cave, and thought. She thought of all that she was, all that she had been, and all that she could be. She thought of Longpaw and his misery; of Valiantpaw and his secrets; of Skypaw and her fears; of Burningfur and her loneliness. Silently she sent them a blessing. _Strive to be happy, and don't miss me if I never come back.  
_She stepped into the cave, and began to walk; instantly the darkness burned away at her sight, and the air grew noticeably colder and damp. She felt the heat being sucked away from her flesh, and her paws numbed as the voices swelled again.

_The bark of the elder makes songs for the children  
To call to the deer as they roam over the snow.  
"I was born in the Dark," said the Green One,  
"I was born in the Dark," said he._

__She continued to walk, her heart pounding almost painfully, as the cold thickened and the darkness gained a presence and followed her inwards.  
At last, the tunnel widened, and as she stood there, on a night when the wolves were silent and only the invisible moon howled, a true voice called to her.  
"Greetings and hail, Firewalker," it said. "We have been waiting for you."_  
_


	16. Children Of The Dark

Feeling as though she had stepped into a dream, Twilightpaw obeyed, allowing the voice to draw her onwards until she stood before them.  
"Greetings," the Child of the Dark said again.  
There should not have been light. When she had first stepped into the cavern, it had been as dark as a cave on a moonless night should be. But now there was a faint glow emanating from the cave walls; a greenish-blue shimmer that seemed to emanate from the stone itself.  
She shivered.  
"Do not fear the cave fungus, Firewalker," the voice said gently. "It is reacting to a certain kind of creature that you carry on your pelt; something too small for you to ever see, but if you were to extend your mind far enough, you might sense them. The fungus uses this creature to help spread its spores, and so it calls to them with light."

It took her a few moments to find her own speech. "An odd place to gather, for cats who worship the dark."  
A ripple of chuckles echoed through the gathered cats; the light was not bright enough for her to see how many there were, for their pelts seemed to merge and blend before her eyes, and what was once one cat split into two or three as they moved. They seemed to hover in some sort of place between true life and spirit; ghostly suggestions of cats impossible to make out clearly, for their pelts were bleached colourless by the glow.  
"On the contrary," the voice answered. "We do not worship the dark, but if we did, we could not have found a better place. We do not go outside, so the creatures do not live in our fur. When you leave, this cavern will revert to the darkest place in all the known world. It is easier for us to see, then, but those who visit us—the cats of the Bright—are terrified by our darkness. This cavern works for all concerned. It was a great miracle for us to find it."

The owner of the voice took a few steps forward, leaving its companions behind. The light edged over its now clear shape, and she could tell from his scent that he was male, but nothing else. His voice seemed oddly high-pitched and lilting for a tom, but too deep for a she-cat. She wondered, suddenly, if he was one of the kind that no warrior tom could speak of without a shudder; one of the Cut, a male who was no male and could never breed or fight.  
"I am indeed," he said with a mild purr, and she shuddered. "You can read my thoughts? Don't you think that's rude?"  
"I would think it unforgiveable, if I had any way of preventing myself from hearing them."  
Twilightpaw flinched again. She had originally expected to find a group of cats—strange cats, but cats nonetheless—crouching in the dark. She would demand that they answer her questions, and use all her snark and intellect to bend them to her will. They would comply and tell her the truth.  
Now, though, all her wit and cleverness fled her. Surely these ghostly things that could read minds were not true cats? And how could she dare demand that they do anything, for clearly they were so far removed from the cares and vanities of mortals?

She sensed sadness emanating from the Cut; how, she couldn't have said.  
"Firewalker," he murmured, "we are not so different as you believe. We were born as you were born, carefree and wet from birth, with no thoughts except milk and love. We grew up as all kits do; we played, we fought, we argued with our siblings, we dreamed of being warriors. Some of us discovered our powers at this tender age, and we were found by our predecessors, those who have since gone on into the greatest darkness of all. Some of us knew them the way you know you have a beating heart or a deformed mind; existing, but not worth speaking of aloud. We thought we were different, and we found our own paths in life, but eventually the darkness called us home. I was a Twolegkit. I was Cut. Now I am a Child of the Dark and I see all that has been. It is all that matters; but we are still mortal. One day we will die, and we welcome it, for although we could live nowhere else part of us still longs to feel the light of the sun and the moon and the stars. There is no _I _anymore. There is only _we, _and _us._"

Twilightpaw thought about this, tried to comprehend the loneliness of life in a world without light, and she shook her head. "I couldn't live that way."  
"Nor shall you."  
"Because I'm this…Firewalker? What does that even mean?"  
The Cut sighed; he sat down and curled his tail around his paws.  
"You have a story," Twilightpaw guessed.  
"That, we do."  
"Will you tell me?"  
The Cut looked deep into her eyes, but strangely she did not feel fear; only sadness for all that he had suffered and for what he had left behind him.  
He spoke.

"In this great and beautiful world of which we only occupy the smallest of parts, there are three kinds of forces—those that all can see, those that some can see, as those that none can see. There are some things in the world that no mortal eyes were meant to gaze on. They watch us. They watch from some place beyond the stars; but they do not care for us. Oh, they love us, in a way beyond all comprehension, in a way that is not truly love but cannot be called by any other name—except, perhaps, hatred. They respect and admire our beauty and our intelligence and what we have shaped without their aid, but care for us? No. That is a mortal emotion, and they are not mortal. They are everything and nothing.

"Some beings in the world claim they shape all. This, we find hard to believe, for if they made the world as it was, with all its suffering and pain and trivial things such as tooth decay and phlegm then they are petty and small in all ways and do not deserve the mantle of godhood. It is far safer to say that they shaped some aspects of life and left others to grow as they will, like a seedling in an untended garden bed.  
"Once it was not always so. Once upon a time, so far back that even our memories are distant and almost unreadable, they sent angels to walk among us. They breathed life into beings that, supposedly, were their children, and served their will, and were loyal to their Creators above all else. These beings—Mitternacht and Felidae, the Father and Queen of the Cats—soon learned that they themselves were too far away from the mortal realm to truly guard it.  
"Once there was a she-cat, who was at once beautiful and yet incomplete. There was an injury to her soul; a wounded one in all senses of the term, but she was queen of her own band of cats, and she led them in a cat-world torn by war. She led her friends and enemies alike to a collection of cats—not warriors, no, but something like it. They were lovely and fair in their pelts and their eyes shone like starlight. Their scent was of opulence and plenty. The cats the Wounded Queen had guided were thrilled with their discovery. "Let us live here," they proclaimed. "Let us become princes and princesses, like them."

"But because the Queen was wounded, she knew the scent of an infected spirit, and she turned away from them because she alone saw the darkness behind the starlight in their eyes. One night, the pain in her soul called her, and she listened to its voice for the first time. She dug with her paws deep into the earth, until her claws were broken and blunted, and then she came across the monster of the dark that possessed the not-warriors.  
"What happened then is never clear. Some say she slayed the beast with her fangs, since her claws were useless. Others say that she chased it into the night, into exile, into the fabric of the world. Others say that she took the darkness inside herself, where it slept, and waited…but nevertheless, it was vanquished, and out of that hole stepped Felidae and Mitternacht, who spread their white wings and blessed her.

"They called her Warden and named her guardian to all things; they said that she had but one task and one task only, but it was the greatest task in the history of the cats.  
""Save them," the Cat Lords whispered. "Keep them from flying off into the dark." They kissed her head and they poured themselves into the wound inside her; sealed it forevermore with their kindness and light. Her eyes glittered like a rainbow with the power they gifted her, and she followed them to the stars, where she was the Warden of mortals for many years. Until she changed.  
"It happened slowly, so slowly that even gods failed to notice. But the Warden was a mortal at heart, and all mortals become corrupted with power, no matter how good and kind and generous they are. Perhaps it was even that the shadow she had conquered had left its mark on her, and infected her once more with a far darker disease. It fed on the gifts that the Cat Lords had given her, until her mind was riddled with madness. She could comprehend no future, nothing beyond instant gratification, felt no purpose except that of shedding the blood of innocents and using souls to strengthen her powers. Truly, she became an evil beyond all comprehension…

"But to one, the nightmare inside her soul made her more beautiful than ever before. He lived in a world of darkness, madness and pain; of purgatory, where spirits went to have their fates decided. He was the Time Keeper, and he saw all that once was, and he taught a faint scattering of cats how to hold on to their memories and not let their minds disintegrate. Eventually they forgot how to remember, but some of their descendants would reawaken this power, and those descendants would teach us, the first Children of the Dark. He was the Time Keeper, and he lived in a nightmare, and he watched her kindness turn to cruelty with equal fascination and heartbreak, for despite the dark world he inhabited and the monstrous master he served he was never truly corrupted. He was the Time Keeper, and he fell in love with the Warden, and he pleaded for her to end her ways—for he thought that would be enough."  
"But he was wrong," Twilightpaw whispered suddenly, unable to help herself. For a fleeting moment she had _grasped _this, held the memory in a way she'd never understood before, but suddenly she _was _the Time Keeper, and she felt his anguished sorrow and utter defeat as he stood after the Warden and called her by her true name. _Larentia!_  
"He was wrong," the Cut confirmed. "There was no capacity to love in what remained of the Warden. She scorned him and turned her back and he fled to his own world. But he had fallen; both in love and spirit, for love was a mortal emotion, one not meant for him. He was punished for this."

_If you think yourself beautiful enough to be loved, then I shall make you into something that is reviled, _a voice hissed, and she shuddered and leaned away from the rawness and power in it. There was a flash of light, and she saw a strange cat-like beast lift his head proudly to a monster that could only be described as a shadow inverted. _Do what you will, _the catbeast replied.  
_You will suffer.  
I have suffered enough. Nothing you can do will hurt me now.  
Pitiful beast. The pain of a mortal and the apathy of a god's plaything. Is there anything remotely inspiring about you?  
I care not.  
You think you are beyond torment? There is no such state of mind. The universe came into being, and it _hurt, _little one, it wept for its own existence, and it begged to be returned to what it once was. Its pain echoes through us now and forevermore.  
You speak as if you saw it.  
You speak as if you did not. A Time Keeper that does not know Time's origin? The Creators work in strange ways…  
_The Cut was speaking again, shaking her out of her memories. "The Time Keeper was humiliated utterly by his master, who transformed him into something repulsive beyond our imagining. Shocked by the outcome, the Creators descended upon their realm, and sealed it with a wall of ice.  
They then turned to the Warden."  
_Do you know what they are doing to your beloved, even as we speak? Shall we watch? I would do that for you. It would cost us both nothing.  
I choose not to know. I choose not to see. I can tell what will come of this, and I choose not to believe in it._

"They tore her soul from her body and they ripped it into two. One part, the piece that contained what was left of her kindness, the sweetness of Mitternacht and the blessings of Felidae, was thrown into the wider world, to settle into the hearts of certain cats who would pass it onto their own offspring. They would become the medicine cats of the world, or, as we once rather better put it, the _ameslari. _The ones who dream. The second part, her corruption and insanity, it was thrown into the world abyss, in the space that was left over when the world was born. It grew. It reshaped. It became something beyond even the Warden's darkness. It became Rhangori. Cold Night. Shadow Heart. He took a new name each time he rose above the darkness. He died. He returned. He destroyed.  
_Poor little one. Your mate met a terrible fate, didn't she? And it was all for nothing. Your turn, now.  
_"He was eventually exiled into the same world as the Time Keeper, that same purgatory, designed to guard the borders of the three realms and to feast on all the souls he desired. He cannot break the thin layer of ice that shields him from our reality, although from time to time he can see through it…the world moved on. Time flowed. And cats forgot—except us."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and Twilightpaw let the silence stretch between them for a while, though part of her was anxiously aware of her dawn deadline. The tale he had told her hung heavily in her mind, far away from any sort of analysis, but at the same time unforgettable. She would carry it to her grave. At last, she spoke. "Why are you telling me this?"  
The not-tom looked up and gave her the barest hint of a smile. "Perhaps I dreamed that you would come and that I must say those words so that you could bring them to someone else," he said. "Or perhaps because you were born to find secrets, and all secrets are wrapped up into the one great secret that no living mortal could know, and our story is what will lead you to it." As though the telling had physically weakened him, he stepped back, his pelt merging with the other Children of the Dark, until he was almost invisible. Another moved forwards to take his place. A she-cat, this time.

"Firewalker," said she, "like the world, we have grouped the beings on this earth into three orders. The first is the Children of the Dark; ourselves, and all those who pursue knowledge at the expense of their lives. They are cold, destructive, lonely, empty, heartbroken, patient, wise, incapable of aggression. Not all of us dwell in shadow—these are classifications, nothing more. The second is the Children of the Bright—most, but certainly not all, medicine cats belong to this. Their dreams come from the light of the stars and the sun and the moon, and their love of light burns away the darkness in their hearts and compels them to help all who need them. They are rash, sharp-eyed, observant, loyal, clever, distant, subtle. Their goal in life is to spread as much brightness into the world as they can. All who pursue this are Bright Children, whether they know of it or not.  
"The third is the Children of the Grey, and in some ways they are hardest to define. They do not dream or hear voices or perceive anything unnatural—some would say that all warriors are Grey Children, though we disagree. Grey Children flicker like a shadow in twilight; sometimes they are drawn to knowledge, as we do, but other times they are pulled towards the Bright by their emotions. Remember though, that these orders have nothing to do with alignment. We care not for good or evil—those desires passed from us when we forsook the sun."

With a sudden flash of understanding Twilightpaw realised that whether they liked it or not Valiantpaw and Moonpelt were Children of the Dark, and possibly Burningfur too. And herself?  
"What am I?" she heard her voice echo.  
The she-cat dipped her head. "You are none. You are a Firewalker. The name suits them, for all that they do changes all that there is. You will not notice this, but you forever change the destiny of everyone you meet. A she-cat that was fated to die in childbirth may suddenly wind up leading her Clan…or she may die before she even gives birth in great pain. You have no influence over this, none at all. That is why they are called Firewalkers—wherever they go, they send waves of fire to scour the landscape, changing it forever more, and it is unknown whether the land will grow back stronger or stay dead and barren . You are not the first— but it appears likely to us that you will be the last. Whenever one of your kind appears, the world changes dramatically and it throws everything off-kilter. Since your birth, our scrying has been…vague. Obtuse. It will worsen as you grow, but fade as you die."

Twilightpaw's eyes were as wide as the moon. After all she'd been mocked and taunted for being a mutant, after all she'd fought against their cruel words and mistruths, she was cursed after all? What if her presence one day caused her friends to die? What if she sneezed one morning and wiped her Clan off the face of the world? It was as though every time she flicked her tail a bolt of lightning would land nearby. She felt dangerous to be around.  
On the other paw, she'd kept them all alive so far, hadn't she? What if they were going to lose the battle of retribution until she showed up?  
"It is tempting, I know," the she-cat said gently, "to see yourself as the centre of events. But it is not so. You do not define those events; they merely react to your presence. Think of it as pushing a pebble into a pond; you disturb the water, but you could not say where the stone lands nor how far the ripples will spread. And remember, you cannot influence the destinies of cats that you have not interacted with."  
_Ravenpaw. _She felt a torrent of guilt. If she'd just left the HollowClan cats alone, would he have died?

"Of course he would have," the hare snapped in irritation. "You did not cause him to be born with a mutated heart."  
She clung to his words, but something in her heart hardened. It wasn't true. None of this stuff was. It was all impossible, a fantasy created by these mad cats to sustain their miserable lives in the dark._  
_Twilightpaw lifted her chin. "Look, I hear what you're saying, but I don't really believe in this stuff. About StarClan and seeing the future and everything. It doesn't make sense, not to me."  
The she-cat smiled slightly. "There is an old phrase that beings have used since the beginning of time to prove the existence of their gods. It is such: to your left, there is a real mouse. To your right, there is nothing, only an imaginary mouse. Which is better?"  
"The one on the left, of course."  
"And you would agree that, if gods existed, they would be the greatest things in the universe?"  
"Yes…"  
"Then it surely follows that if a god is the most powerful of all in the universe, he or she must be real?"

Twilightpaw thought about this for a moment. It sounded like something Valiantpaw would say. "I think…that faith and fact can't co-exist, because one effectively destroys the other. If you have enough faith, facts become meaningless. If you have enough facts, you can't continue on with your faith. I'm a realist. I've never seen StarClan, and they've never done anything for me. Therefore I can't believe in them. If they were to reveal themselves to me, or if solid proof was given of their existence, then sure, I'd re-evaluate my position. But not until then. One of the greatest things about being a cynic is that you are always either right or pleasantly surprised."  
The she-cat seemed about to speak, before a faint glimmer appeared in her eyes and she half-turned away with a smile. "Wise enough for someone of your age and context, I suppose. Now you came to us to ask a question. Speak it—that is our purpose."  
Twilightpaw's heart fluttered and she felt a chill prickle her spine. "My mind is different. Am I a mutant? Have there been others like me?"  
The she-cat paused for a few moments, then beckoned the young apprentice forwards with her tail. Twilightpaw did so with unease.

The she-cat lowered her head so that she was on eye-level with Twilightpaw, and then breathed directly into her nose and mouth. Her breath was strange; sweet, but in the fashion of moisture and decay. It reminded her of the mushrooms that sometimes sprouted in circles on the grass after rain. A feeling of dizziness and nausea assaulted her, and she staggered sideways; part of her was warning of treachery. But what poison existed that could be spread by breath?  
If the she-cat heard these thoughts, she made no response, continuing to lock her eyes onto Twilightpaw's own brown ones, the sickly scent of her breath overwhelming her. The cave blurred and tilted sideways; Twilightpaw felt saliva collect at the base of her mouth and tried to swallow it, but her mouth hung open, refusing to close.  
"Ask your question again," the she-cat said, sounding very far away, her voice echoing. "With your mind and your heart. Think why you must know the answer to this."

Liquid dripped down her chin, and she gagged, but her body seemed unimaginably distant from her thoughts. She felt like a prisoner or a living cat buried alive; but she pushed through the fear.  
It pattered like icy rain on her shoulders and grew into vines that ensnared her fur, holding her back. Twilightpaw thrust her mind forwards, but it could not penetrate the cold terror that was fogging her thoughts. At last she felt rage surge in the depths of her being, and she shoved it forwards like a stick into the throat of a cat. The fear fought back ferociously, but Twilightpaw refused to yield, gaining ground with every drop of willpower she had. A memory flashed into her mind, of a tortoiseshell she-cat, digging and digging until her claws were bloody and broken and she looked into the abyss of the world…  
…and saw a monster staring right back at her.  
Twilightpaw tried to scream, but she was still paralysed; she pushed and struggled with all her might and eventually forced her way through the nightmare. The air of fright rose and swelled, becoming fluffy white clouds that cast gentle shadows onto her skin. She felt their bird-like voices bubble into her mind, offering safety, offering help.  
_But you don't talk, _she thought back at them sadly. _Shadows can't talk while they still have a master to follow.  
_The shadows hissed in anger and inverted themselves, and Twilightpaw gazed into the red orbs of a being whose flesh was hidden by darkness. The clouds turned their soft, wispy touch into claws that raked her brain and caused blood to darken her eyesight. It filled her mouth and nose and she choked on the stench.

_Ask your question, little one , _she heard,and she could not tell whether the voice was male or female, light or dark, cat or otherwise.  
_What is wrong with me? Am I alone? _she thought straight back at it, and it recoiled slightly from the strength in her mind. The darkness faded, and suddenly she was floating over a long line of cats stumbling through a field of snow.  
They were all shapes and sizes and colours; the only difference being that most of them were large and adult, with very few small apprentice-aged cats staggering behind their elders. Though they were clearly in great difficulty, no-one glanced over their shoulders to see if they were still following; no-one paused to allow them to catch up. It was as though the younger cats didn't exist.  
Twilightpaw hovered above them, watching as the line wandered beneath her, until she found herself being drawn to a few of the last adult cats in the line. She frowned; whatever this scene was, it meant nothing to her, for they were clearly not Clan cats and therefore could not help her. She bent her mind on her question again, but before she could push it out into the world one of the cats below her looked up.

Twilightpaw gasped as she stared into the face of a grey-eyed silver tabby. Though Twilightpaw had grown up around lovely she-cats such as Crimsonflame, Lilacbreeze and Silvertail, she had not until that moment fully grasped the idea of beauty. Yet as she gazed into that strange she-cat's eyes, she saw at once what made her more beautiful than any other; not the shape of her face or the slenderness of her body, but the light of kindness and hope in her eye. It reminded her a little of Skypaw.  
Yet bizarrely there was something of Silvertail in her too. Perhaps it was no more than the fact that they were both silver tabbies, and both clearly had airs of authority about them. There did not appear to be much difference in their ages, but there was a weight of sadness that pressed down on the she-cat's shoulders so that the proud tilt of her head was not as pronounced as Silvertail's.  
The silver she-cat scanned the sky with her eyes several times, seemingly unable to see Twilightpaw but capable of sensing her presence. At last her shoulders raised and fell in a shrug, and she looked away.  
_Perhaps I dreamed that you would come and that I must say these words so that you could bear them to someone else…_

A name rose to her lips. "Larentia," she said quietly. A flicker of movement caught her eye; it was not from the main column of cats, but from some way behind them. She said the name again, and it pull her away. At the same time, she felt a presence press down upon her—neither good nor cruel; simply a being, one who would help her if he could and hurt her if he must.  
She wished there were more like him in her world.  
Her paws skimmed the snowy earth, leaving no footprints behind her, and she slowed to a halt in front of a tortoiseshell she-cat with strange, glowing eyes. Like the silver cat, this one stared at Twilightpaw, but she had a knowing glint in her eye. She could see her.  
The tortoiseshell said something, but it was in a language that Twilightpaw could not understand. The she-cat's brow furrowed and she spoke again. Twilightpaw shook her head. Suddenly a brightness lit up the blandly pretty face, and she at last appeared to find the Clan tongue.  
"A Firewalker. You called to me, little sister?"  
"To greet you and ask your aid, _ameslari,_" Twilightpaw replied quietly.  
"I am no more a dreamer than you. What is your question?"  
Twilightpaw repeated it, and the she-cat tilted her head. At last she spoke.

"There is nothing wrong with you, in the sense that neither is there anything wrong with being born with missing claws or teeth or a weakened heart. No beast is born alike. All have different strengths and weaknesses." A prickle ran down Twilightpaw's spine. The she-cat continued. "You are not alone. I have seen cases such as yours. Not many—the condition is not common. There is a name for it, but it is impossible to say in either my tongue or this. The disorder, itself…what has occurred to you is that at some point during your development in the womb a part or parts of your brain were corrupted. You see and hear things normally, but sometimes, when you are stressed or in a naturally loosened state—such as sleep—your brain will process the sounds and images incorrectly. It shows itself in many ways. Once I had a wolf who was convinced that every being in the world was trying to hunt him down and kill him. Another was a hawk who had split personalities; at times he was sweet-natured and gentle, at others he was monstrous. I do not doubt that there are others such as you among the Clans or wider world. But I do doubt that they would ever try to seek you out or present themselves to you."  
"Is it a mutation?"  
"Oh, yes, indeed, if your definition of the word _mutation _is a corrupted feature. But it was not necessarily caused by anything in particular. It is passed down through bloodlines. You are quite young to experience the onset of it, though; for the most part it appears in adults."  
Twilightpaw frowned. "But if the mind is corrupted…wouldn't it show itself as soon as you could think?"

The tortoiseshell shook her head. "It really depends on how much the brain is defective. In most cases, the defect is small, and not apparent until an extremely traumatic situation _triggers _the disorder. I remember being taught that cats suspected of having the condition in their bloodline must not be given catmint or poppy seeds or narcotics of any sort…"  
Twilightpaw's heart began to beat faster. "Is there a way to cure me?"  
The tortoiseshell gave her an odd look. "You are not sick. You are simply in a different phase of mind from the rest of us."  
"Yes, whatever…is there anything I can do to stop the hallucinations? Make me sane?"  
"Among your kind? No," the she-cat said flatly.  
Depression crashed down on Twilightpaw. She was doomed to be an insane freak for the rest of her life. Not only that, but she would drag others down with her. Simply being alive was dangerous enough.

"If you truly can't accept your changes," the she-cat said, carefully picking through her words like a crow through a rotting carcass, "if you truly think that you are ill, you can consider a change of lifestyle. Try eating more fruit and fish—they will help keep your mind healthy. I doubt it will make much difference at your age, since your brain is naturally unstable anyway as you grow. And if the visions ever reach a point that you can't bear to view them, or if you start having terrible thoughts that don't make sense but you can't get them out of your head, you could try eating rosin rose. It is a small ground-covering plant with star-like yellow flowers…there are small oil glands in the leaves that are easy to smell. Don't eat too much of it, one or two bites should do. Try it with valerian—you'll know what that is when you smell it; almost as good as catmint. Together they should calm you down enough to break out of the sights. Keep a supply nearby." The she-cat sighed. "But the best way to live with your visions is to learn how to control them. There is a method…you could ask your medicine cat…I don't know what your kind would call it; I taught it to them as lucid dreaming, but so much has changed."  
Twilightpaw felt a tingle enter her paws, and she knew her time was up. "Before I go," she said hurriedly, "who are those cats over the hills?"  
"Your past," she said cryptically, "and perhaps your future as well." She began to fade, the swirling colours of her fur merging and blurring.  
"The silver she-cat…"

"Has many names. Once she was Felidae. Once she was White Fire. Once she was Drifting Snowflakes. But you would know her better as Snowdrift, the last sacrifice."  
_Snowdrift…SnowClan?  
_"Exactly so…" the tortoiseshell said, her voice fading to nothing as Twilightpaw opened her eyes.  
She was lying on the floor of the cave, her head aching as though she had slammed it hard into the ground. Her cheek was sticky with saliva and blood; she'd bitten her tongue. Feeling as though she had aged years in the space of a few minutes, she crawled to her paws.  
The light of the cave fungus seemed darker now, and the horde of cats that made up the Children of the Dark had gone away. Only two remained; the she-cat who had brought on her vision, and the not-tom who had told her the past.  
"What did you do to me?" Twilightpaw said harshly, her voice scraping at the edge of her throat.  
The she-cat moved forwards, very close. Twilightpaw flinched, but the she-cat merely cleaned the filth around the young apprentice's jaws with the brisk tenderness of a mother.  
The not-tom spoke. "We taught you to open your eyes. We fear it has had an effect on you that we did not anticipate."

"How delightfully cryptic and infuriating," Twilightpaw muttered in response as the she-cat stepped back again. "What effect, exactly?"  
Both cats shook their heads in united enigma.  
"Fine. Don't tell me anything." Twilightpaw turned her back on them to leave, but then hastily remembered that she did not know the way back to her own territory.  
"Will Shadowstar still be waiting outside?" she managed in a polite tone.  
"Yes," came the reply. "One of our hunters will escort you back to the surface. At night, these tunnels are perfectly safe. Closer to dawn, however…" The she-cat trailed off. "The hunter will meet you outside his hole."  
Twilightpaw was nonplussed at this, but she nevertheless turned again to go. She was a few footsteps away from the exit when she heard the not-tom's voice behind her.  
"Firewalker," he said, "how strong is your spirit?"  
She turned. "Strong enough for me."

His eyes were strangely sad. "Then in two nights' time stay wakeful. You will see something that will explain much. But I warn you, it will break your heart." Both he and the she-cat shuddered slightly and stepped back, merging with the growing darkness of the cave.  
Break her heart? Was someone else she cared about going to die? Of course not, one part of herself told the other firmly, none of this stuff is real. She half-expected for the hare to make a comment on this, but for once he was silent.  
"What if I don't go?" she called out. There was no response, though she could feel their eyes still on her back.  
Shaking her head, Twilightpaw walked through the tunnel of darkness, and she felt her fur prick with the sensation of being watched. At the edge of her hearing the voices that had sang to her as she entered the tunnels swelled.

_With head bowed down, I murmur one last prayer,  
To those I leave on this foreign soil;  
Whose frames consumed by cruelty and toil,  
Will never more breathe sweet forest air.  
When suns were grey, their tired yet steadfast eyes  
Would turn to green leaves, and thorn scrub plains,  
To moorland kissed by gentle rains,  
And pine trees nodding under azure skies._

_But now they dwell within dreams in realms of thought,  
Where Halls of Dawn are filled with angels' song.  
While we enjoy the freedom they sought  
To bear the fiery hopes they passed along.  
Wolf and Leopard grant you peace, you souls who are now free  
To join the forebears, yours and ours, who saved our world with their belief._

The hunter she had been told to expect was indeed awaiting her, outside the entrance of a tunnel leading off the main cave that she had not noticed on her way in. She noticed him by scent alone; it was far too dark to make him out properly. A gust of his scent swept past her as he led the way; she realized with a flash of shock that he had once been HollowClan.  
He stopped at the mouth of the cave entrance, and the starlight traced delicate patterns across his plain tabby pelt. He turned to go back inside, but she stopped him with her tail. "Are you a Child of the Dark?"  
"Yes and no," he said gravely. "I seek knowledge, but I am not as dedicated to it as the other Children are. I could not give up the sun and fresh air. So I am a hunter for them—I catch prey and bring water, or herbs when they are ill." He shrugged. "It's not a bad life, really. And at least nobody can tell me what to do."

"But still," Twilightpaw said, "it must get lonely."  
"Lonely?" he said, sounding remarkably like Burningfur. "I prefer to think of myself as solitary. That way I can remind myself that I chose this life." He gestured towards a figure in the night, watching them with gleaming eyes. "Shadowstar awaits you. You'd best get some sleep."  
Twilightpaw nodded back to him and shivered as the cold night wind pierced her tabby fur. She approached Shadowstar, who appeared to be half-asleep, her eyes only twitching slightly beneath closed lids.  
"You didn't have to wait up for me," Twilightpaw said, both embarrassed and strangely flattered. "I could have found my own way home by following our scent trail."  
Shadowstar shook her head. "While you are in my territory you are my responsibility. I'm not enthralled with the idea of explaining to Rapidstar that an apprentice of his was eaten on my lands. More likely than not he'd think that we murdered you. Come on."  
Twilightpaw fell in line behind the she-cat, her head still hurting and spinning with all she had seen and learned. As though she too could read Twilightpaw's thoughts, Shadowstar said, "Did you find the answers you were looking for?"

Twilightpaw grimaced. "Yeah. After a fashion. Still some questions left, though. I forgot to ask them about my…" she trailed away. She felt a rush of gratitude as Shadowstar did not press her further, instead saying, "They do not answer every question you ask. They say that some things should be found out on their own, as befits a true Grey Child."  
The LightningClan apprentice chose not to respond to this. She asked something else that had been hovering in her thoughts for a long time. "Shadowstar, is SnowClan's territory really worth it?"  
The RainClan leader kept walking, but her head swivelled around to glare at Twilightpaw. "You dare ask that of me?"  
"I have to. It doesn't make sense to me. You say that what you do is good and right, but in what you've done, you're not so different from HollowClan. Both of you are trying to take territory that isn't really yours, and both of you are willing to twist the warrior code to get it."  
Shadowstar bared her teeth. "My decisions are made with my Clan's best interest, and are _none _of your concern."

There was a line here somewhere, and Twilightpaw knew she was wobbling on it, but she couldn't help continuing. "Two cats are dead—one of them a kit—because neither you nor Clawstar could let things go. You should have stood with us from the very beginning. If Clawstar thought that every single Clan was totally opposed to the idea of SnowClan's land being claimed, he wouldn't have tried such a stupid plan. But instead he thought the forest was divided, with every Clan against each other, and he jumped at it. Rapidstar saw that. Even Deathstar saw that. Why didn't you?"  
There was a very bad moment when Twilightpaw thought the she-cat was going to spring for her throat. Then, with a sudden release of breath, Shadowstar's shoulders fell and her neck drooped. Her brow furrowed and Twilightpaw wondered if the RainClan leader was about to weep in the silent, dry-eyed way of beasts.  
Twolegs cried. Beavers cried. Even wolves could to a minor extent. Cats could not, and the lack of it hurt them.  
At last Shadowstar spoke, in a language that Twilightpaw did not understand.  
"_Deus meus, ex animo doleo pro peccatis meis. In eligendo faciat iniurum, et deficientes facere bonum, ego peccavi tibi, quem ego oportet super omnia amare."_

The words thrummed in Twilightpaw's ears, and they seemed to her to be a language of both sadness and beauty, a language that purely captured the meaning of life.  
They stopped at the border between their Clans, and Shadowstar met Twilightpaw's eyes.  
"I hope we will not meet again, Twilightpaw. Our job is done. You have kept your promise, and I have kept mine. Go to sleep now, and rest."  
Twilightpaw tried to find words, but in the end she merely settled on the old Clan blessing. "May your path rise up to meet you and may the wind be ever at your back. I hope we will not be enemies."  
Shadowstar nodded, and the two she-cats held each other's eye for a moment more, before they departed into the starry shadows.


	17. The Land Of Tears

**Moon of the Flowering Trees, 2****nd**** Sun**

Twilightpaw slept.  
She slumbered, and as she did so, her mind, released from the barriers of conscious thought and inhibition, roamed free. It darted through fleeting dreams like a thrush through falling snow, never allowing itself to become fully entrenched into a nightmare. Occasionally it caught a glimpse of a dream: a flash of rainbow, moonlight glinting off black fur, the sound of rushing water—but nothing substantial.  
Her mind roamed until her emotions calmed; until the wounds she'd suffered from her visit to the Children of the Dark began to heal.

Then at last, saturated with sleep, the light intruded into her thoughts, and she squeezed her eyes tight against the bright glare of the sun. The air inside her den was hot and close; sweat was trickling from her paws and nose.  
_Sun?  
_Twilightpaw sat up, wincing as the heat caught against her dry tongue and mouth. Judging by the strength of the shadows who were greeting her in their silent ways, it was almost sunhigh.  
Sunhigh! How could she have possibly slept so long? Apprentices were supposed to wake at dawn for the Scourings, and if they didn't, it was a warrior's solemn duty to drag them out screeching and make their lives miserable until they reached the starting point.  
But the den was empty. The scents were hours old. There was no sign that anyone had returned to check on her. Something had to be wrong.

Twilightpaw stepped out of the den, her legs and back protesting. That was the problem with exhaustion; you sleep so deeply that your body forgets to shift and move to keep the muscles supple. She groaned slightly as she stretched the cramps out of her joints and looked around for her fellow apprentices.  
There were none in sight. Only two warriors. One was Stormheart, hunched over the fresh-kill pile, poking at a piece of meat in a way that reminded Twilightpaw of herself in her younger days. The other was clearly a sentry, his back and shoulders straight, but there was a droop to his ears and tail that suggested he wanted nothing more than to be elsewhere.  
"Where is everyone?" she called out to them.  
Stormheart abandoned his beleaguered kill and trotted over to her side. He tried to give her a smile as he gently cleaned behind her ears. "You're awake at last."

"I was training pretty hard yesterday," she said, ducking away from his tongue. "Why didn't anyone wake me? Am I in trouble?"  
Stormheart sighed. "Maybe, but I don't think you'd have to worry about being punished for a while yet." A shadow drifted across his amber eyes, and he flashed a glance at the medicine den. Looking back to her, he frowned slightly. "You have blood on your chin."  
The she-cat must not have cleaned all of it off. Twilightpaw shrugged. "I bit my tongue during the night." There was no lie in that. "Seriously though, what's going on?"  
The big grey turned again towards Moonpelt's lair. "It's Fernleaf. She's sick."  
Something in his voice chilled her blood. "Sick how?"

"It's probably better if Moonpelt explains it to you. But…but it's not something that she's likely to recover from, sweetheart."  
"Oh," Twilightpaw said softly, and she felt something shift inside her. A voice whispered in her ear; it was not unlike the wind at its cruellest moments.  
_She's dying. Dying. Dying because of you.  
_Stormheart returned to the fresh-kill pile, shaking his head slowly, and Twilightpaw went into the medicine den.  
As always, it was cool and moist inside the den, shielded by an odd mixture of brambles and scented grass. Twilightpaw breathed in the bittersweet smell of herbs, and discovered a new odour; something foul and corrosive, like the scent they sometimes found on shiny objects left by Twolegs.  
"Enter," Moonpelt said softly, and Twilightpaw felt the she-cat's grey eyes upon her as she obeyed.  
It felt completely unreal. This was Fernleaf, she who had come from so far and had grown Twilightpaw's best friend within her. Twilightpaw hadn't known Fernleaf intimately—she carried an enigma in her bearing— but there had been a bond of sorts between them, perhaps nothing more than the fact that they both carried the blood of faraway places. Fernleaf had always been kind to her, and Longpaw had never spoken of his mother without a twinkle of pride in his eye.

Hunched over Fernleaf was Greyfire, the big tom whom had gifted Longpaw with his height and colouring, with his head drooping over his mate's neck. He was still, and he made no noise, but Twilightpaw knew he was crying in a way that went deeper than even the introverted ways of ordinary sadness. It was the kind of grief that makes you hold yourself very tightly, where you shrink into something small and silent in the hope that whatever darkness is hunting you won't see you and will leave.  
"It is such a secret place, the land of tears," the hare whispered, and Twilightpaw felt her breath catch in her throat. _Be brave, _she told herself._  
You aren't brave. You're nothing.  
_The brown apprentice stepped forwards, then looked and Moonpelt. "Can I go close?"  
"Yes," the medicine cat replied. "Just don't touch her."  
Twilightpaw crouched beside Fernleaf, saw her white fur slashed with black, saw the yellow eyes that matched Longpaw's. She saw the sticky fluid oozing from Fernleaf's eyes and nose, felt the heat radiating from her, heard the struggling gasps for air as her throat tried desperately to pull air through the clogged lungs, scented the disease that was swiftly robbing her friend's mother of breath and life.

"What's wrong with her?"  
Moonpelt sat down. Like Greyfire, her shoulders had fallen, but there was an element of total defeat and hopelessness in her frame.  
"We call it wet lung," the brown tabby said at last. "It's actually quite common, and it's spread through the dung of infected cats. Most of the time it causes very little harm—a cough, a blocked nose, a mild fever. But in some cats, especially the young and old…it's worse. It clogs their lungs and abdomen with so much fluid that the cat can't breathe. They get terrible fevers…they won't eat or drink…"  
Twilightpaw stared at Fernleaf. The she-cat was old; not elder-age, but old nonetheless. It was why she'd had only one kit, why she felt the cold more than most, why she was the first to sleep.  
"Will she get better?" she asked, and she hated her voice in that instant, for it sounded childish and pleading, like a kit begging for a happy ending to the tale.  
"She might or she might not. There are no herbs to treat this. All we can do is make her as comfortable as she can, and hope."  
Hope. What an empty, meaningless word that was. What was the point of _hoping? _Would StarClan cure Fernleaf's sickness if enough cats wished for it?

_There's no StarClan. There's no-one to help her. No-one to save her from you.  
_Twilightpaw turned back to Fernleaf.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and then stopped, because she had no idea how to go on. There was so much she wanted to give to Fernleaf, so much overflowing from her spirit, but instead of forming words it merely dribbled over her lips like the blood from Ravenpaw's broken heart. There were no words in any language that could express to the fading she-cat what Twilightpaw needed her to know. Up until that moment she had been proud of her knowledge of words, because the more words you knew, the more complex your emotions could become. A newborn only knew happiness, sadness, fear, and anger, but Twilightpaw could feel more. Instead of just _anger _she could feel frustration, rage, vehemence, hatred, fury, wrath, ferocity, ire, frenzy, each a different emotion in its own right. Now, though, she realized that although words might give her ways to name the nuances in a feeling, they fell helplessly, incompetently short of describing the basic feeling itself.  
"I'm sorry," she said again. The things unspoken writhed on her tongue, but there was nothing left to say. All she could do was hope that Fernleaf could see into her heart, and understand.  
The yellow eyes found the brown, and Fernleaf's lips cracked into the faintest of smiles.  
"Lonely little wild kit," she rasped, her shoulders shuddering with the pain. "Stay true to yourself. And watch over my son." The eyes closed again.

"Forever and always," Twilightpaw vowed, before turning to leave, to escape the cesspool of death, disease and unbearable truths.  
"Twilightpaw," Greyfire said, in a voice that sounded as heavy as his mate's, "go and find Longpaw. I think he needs you now. He's suffered so much lately."  
"Where is he?"  
"Out in the moorlands." He turned back to Fernleaf, and Twilightpaw felt a flare of anger that he would rather make himself ill with grief over his dying lover when his living son wandered the plains alone and afraid. Immediately she chided herself. Although he was a good enough father, he was distant from Longpaw in a way that most toms were.  
Perhaps he simply could not find the words to say to him.

She left the medicine den, passed the sentry, and tried to pick up her friend's scent. He had done enough wandering around aimlessly to thoroughly confuse her for half an hour before eventually he seemed to find some purpose in his movement and was heading towards the river. Twilightpaw quickened her steps until she was nearly running, for she thought she knew where he had gone.  
She was right.  
He was huddled in a position eerily similar to his father's, crouching by two sticks in the earth. Beside him, the water rippled and flowed, seemingly disinterested in the sorrows of the groundwalkers. Its babbling was strangely soothing.  
The willows swayed above them in the newleaf breeze. The suns were growing hotter in anticipation of greenleaf, but the wind stayed cool, and the lines of shade provided by the willows created shadows in every shape and form. They, at least, were watching Longpaw sympathetically. And then there were two shadows; simple, inanimate things, just the shadows of sticks, dug into the sand to mark the places where Longpaw's unnamed siblings had returned to the earth.

Twilightpaw sat beside him. "You know, Ambershade told me a story once. She said that willows don't reproduce with seeds like most plants do. They drop their branches and the branches drift down the river into new lands, and eventually they get caught onto the banks and grow into new trees. That means that every willow in the world originally came from the one tree."  
Longpaw didn't answer, but she sensed that he was listening.  
"I wonder if it's the same with cats. I wonder who was the first to stand up and take a look at himself—or herself—and say, hey, I'm a cat. I wonder if it ever occurred to them if they were something else. How did they know that they were a cat and not a wolf or a lynx?"  
"Because StarClan told them that they were different," Longpaw said dully.  
"You think that the first cat in the world was a Clan cat?" Twilightpaw asked.  
"No. But they would have had some kind of ancestors, and they would have told them." He sighed and reached forward to touch one of the gravesticks with his nose. "I wonder if StarClan gave them names. I wonder if they miss me."

Twilightpaw looked up at the blue, blue sky. "I'll bet they do," she said, to be kind, although it wasn't really her style to pander to others' delusions. "But I don't know if they'll have names. Maybe that's for Fernleaf to decide."  
Longpaw shook his head. "Fernleaf isn't dying. I don't believe it. It's not true. I don't know what's wrong with her, but she isn't going to die. And if she is, then it's not her. It's someone else who just looks like her in Moonpelt's den."  
With a sudden flash of understanding Twilightpaw realized that Longpaw had not gone to see his mother. He had decided to forget her. And while Twilightpaw thought that it was probably for the best that Ravenpaw faded from his thoughts, he shouldn't willingly give up his mother. Not when he only had one.  
She tried to think of a way to explain it to him gently, perhaps the way Stormheart had told her, but nothing occurred to mind. "Longpaw," she said softly, "the cat in the medicine den most certainly is Fernleaf. And she is most certainly dying."  
"No," he insisted, though something was giving way in his voice.  
"Yes," she replied. "I'm sorry."

Longpaw cried out, a pure sound of such raw pain and loss that the birds fled from the willow trees and the shadows leaned away. His scream was swallowed by the river, who accepted its new burden without complaint. He sank to the ground and pressed his face into the earth, tasting the soil that contained his dead siblings. Twilightpaw watched for the first few heartbeats, intending to give him his space as she would have wanted, before realizing how stupid and cruel she was being. Longpaw was not her and he did not like loneliness. What did it matter if she was a being who could change fate and had dreamed of gods? What did it matter about the identity of her mother, or if her insanity was curable? On one star, one world, her world, there was a lost friend to be comforted, and Twilightpaw curled her body around him and rested her head on the back of his neck.  
Eventually, his sobs stopped, and he lay still. Twilightpaw leaned away from him and studied the river for a time. At last, she spoke.

"You should go see her. You should go say goodbye."  
"What difference would it make?" he replied dully. "She's not going to get better. And I'd rather just remember her as she was, beautiful and healthy."  
"So you would deprive her of her last chance to see her son in the flesh just so you won't remember her being sick?" She stopped just short of calling him selfish.  
Longpaw shook his head. "You don't understand. You've never lost a family member. You don't know how it hurts."  
"I don't?" Twilightpaw asked, a hint of anger in her even tone. "I know how it feels, Longpaw. I know it feels like there's a hole in your heart and everything's just leaking out with no way to stop it. I know that, for you, everything right now just seems dark and grey. It's true that I haven't _lost _a family member, but I've also never _found _one. It's just emptiness, for me."  
They met each other's eyes for a long moment, before Longpaw finally stood up. "Okay," he said wearily. "I'll see her. For her."

Twilightpaw nodded, and pressed her shoulder against his as she guided him back to the camp, and as they walked, she thought of Burningfur. Where was the proud ginger deputy? Somehow Twilightpaw had the impression that she-cat did not know how to deal with loss; that she was probably hidden away somewhere, hunting, avoiding her apprentice and the inevitable questions. Valiantpaw wouldn't be able to grasp the sorrow of the Clan, so he was no doubt elsewhere too, perhaps impatiently waiting in the training hollow for his mentor, who would not come for suns at least. She decided to find him as soon as Longpaw entered the den.  
They entered camp, and Longpaw's ears lifted when he caught the scent of his mother. Twilightpaw gave him a little nudge, and he hesitated, before saying with sudden realization: "The stars shine so brightly in the sky at night so that we can find our friends when we awaken from nightmares."  
"I'm sure that's true," Twilightpaw replied gently. "Go on."

"You won't come with me?"  
"Do you really want me to?"  
Longpaw considered this. "No," he admitted, and without another word vanished into the closed darkness of the den. Twilightpaw exhaled, glad that she'd done at least a little good in the day.  
_Yes, as if that'll make up for all the bad things you've done.  
_She shook her head at the voice. "Not my fault," she muttered, and then shut up. The absolute last thing she needed was the Clan to find out she was talking to herself.  
A new speaker echoed in her mind. _You're a Firewalker, right? _It was whiny and obnoxious, as opposed to the arrogant snarl of the first. _You should be able to help Fernleaf. You should be able to help Longpaw. Why can't you?  
Because you're stupid, _said the first voice. _Because you can't do anything.  
_I can do more than you, Twilightpaw said back to it, before realizing that it was probably best to just not communicate with them at all.

"Twilightpaw," a real voice rumbled, and she turned to meet Rapidstar's amber eyes. "How are you holding up?"  
"I'm fine, Rapidstar," Twilightpaw replied, surprised that he cared. "I'm sad for Fernleaf, of course, but that's…" she stopped. She had been about to say _that's life, _but she suddenly found the phrase unforgivably insulting.  
"It's the will of StarClan," Rapidstar finished for her, though she wasn't sure if his was any better. "It does not make it much easier, but we will see her again. When it is our time."  
"I suppose," she said. "Is…is there anything you need?" A flash of fear entered her being. Had Shadowstar broken her promise after all and told the LightningClan leader about her rendezvous with the Children of the Dark? No, of course not, she wouldn't have had the time…  
"Need? No. I just came to talk with you." He paused, searching for the words. "It's…Silvertail said that you haven't been very happy lately."  
Yet another surprise. Although Silvertail was tolerant of her, and had taught her much, she'd never shown the slightest interest in her foster-daughter's mental well-being beyond keeping the secret of her fits of madness, which Twilightpaw was reasonably certain was just so that her reputation wasn't damaged.

"Yeah, well, a lot's happened over the last week," Twilightpaw said, somewhat embarrassed. "The battle…it was hard."  
"Indeed it was. For all concerned. But is that all that's upsetting you?"  
There was an agenda here, Twilightpaw thought, but she couldn't see it. "Yes," she lied.  
He tilted his head. "Are the other Clan cats giving you a hard time?"  
_Yes, and you're among them. _"Sometimes they say stuff. It doesn't bother me."  
Rapidstar sat down. "Maybe and maybe not. But the truth is, you have never felt entirely at home here, isn't that so?"  
Twilightpaw looked at him.  
He gave her a humourless smile. "I've noticed, Twilightpaw. It's a leader's job to watch, and to learn. You're more than eight moons old now and yet you're as isolated as when you were a kit. Do you truly think you belong here?" There wasn't any meanness in his voice.

"What would you have me do about it?" she replied, refusing to answer his question.  
The blue-grey tom shrugged his shoulders. "There are other ways of life than just the Clan way, Twilightpaw. You aren't a kit anymore. You're tough enough to hunt for yourself, and you can hold your own in a fight. You wouldn't need much more than that to survive in the wider world."  
And there it was. "You want me to leave."  
Rapidstar met her gaze. "I do. Not out of spite, you must understand, but because I truly think that everyone would be happier, including yourself, if you were to live your life in a way that does not destabilize Clan values."  
"You have my best interest at heart, is that it?"  
"It might seem otherwise, but yes. I will be as honest as I can. You are a mutant. Although so far you have survived well enough to keep your place in the Clan, I do not think that this will always be so. In the cruellest season, leaf-bare, I do not want cats who only manage to survive. I want cats that can strengthen the Clan, cats that will catch enough prey to benefit us all. I want warriors who can give their flesh and blood to the Clan without dying. And I do not think you are one of those cats."  
Twilightpaw swallowed a lump of anger and fear. "When I was younger, you seemed to have the impression that I could make a good warrior."

"So I did. I was willing to give you a chance. You are strong and intelligent and you do have the potential to be a good leader. But your own personality works against you. You can't help but be insolent even in times when it would serve you better to be polite. You cling to your grudges and childish hates despite your full knowledge that they are unreasonable. I have spoken to Burningfur and she has said that you show little interest in bettering yourself, of stretching your boundaries, of moving beyond your comfort zones. She says that at best you will be a rank-and-file warrior who spends her days dreaming of elsewhere, and at worst, a burden. I am inclined to agree."  
_Burningfur said that? _Twilightpaw blinked, trying to hide her hurt. Although she and Burningfur weren't friends, they'd both come a long way since their spats when she was a kit. She deeply respected the acerbic deputy and her ferocious manner of manipulation, but worst of all, Twilightpaw had thought she'd come to win Burningfur's regard as well. At least enough for her to give a favourable report to Rapidstar.

_She said that because it's so obvious that you're useless.  
You should have tried harder. You shouldn't have spent so much time messing around with what you don't understand. Why didn't you?  
_"Then," Twilightpaw said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded—at least to her ears—"why don't you just kick me out now?"  
"No matter what you have heard, or what you might think, I care about you, Twilightpaw," Rapidstar said. "But I have to care for the rest of the Clan, too. You do not fit in. You do not follow orders or respect authority. It sets a bad example, especially for the younger ones, and it creates discontent within the Clan. I respect you enough to let you make up your own mind about what you want to do with your life. It is possible that I am wrong and that you can do well here, if you apply yourself enough. In fact, I hope this is so, as does Burningfur and probably most of the Clan. But if you don't—if you continue as you are—I will not have much of a choice. I've had to exile troublesome apprentices before, and it has always without fail been a messy and painful business for all concerned. So just think over it." He stood up and padded away, leaving Twilightpaw to blink after him.

She hadn't eaten since the day before, but the thought of food made her sick. She had no energy or desire to go hunting, but without Burningfur around to tell her differently it would probably be the best thing to do. The expected thing to do. Something any normal Clan apprentice would do. So she told the sentry—Lilacbreeze now—of her plans and asked her to tell Valiantpaw that she was looking for him, if she saw him. Lilacbreeze gently licked the top of her head in silent agreement, so Twilightpaw set off.  
As the moorland stretched before her in one vast, empty vista, Twilightpaw felt like she was the only cat on the earth. Her hare loped beside her, and the shadows of the grass flickered in greeting, but there was no sound other than the gentle hissing of the breeze. The silence absorbed her, and her body separated itself from her mind, until she walked without ever intending to take another step.  
She did as Rapidstar told her to do and thought. In another time, perhaps when all this was over and done with, she would feel amused at her own contrariness. She'd always complained to any sympathetic ears about how much she disliked Clan life and how she couldn't wait to leave, but the thought of actually being forcibly removed from the Clan horrified her. Although it was true the weight of all the rules and expectations of the Clan crushed her like a fox's throat in a trap, she didn't have the slightest clue what she would do if she suddenly found herself alone in the wild with no-one around to hear her scream. It was so hypocritical.

Well, perhaps not. After all, she'd never had any plans for leaving LightningClan until she was at least a fully-grown warrior. It would be stupid to not take in all the fighting and hunting skills she could and learn at least something about the minds of other cats. She'd also never thought she would tackle the wider world on her own. She had pictured Valiantpaw at the very least going with her, and maybe Longpaw and Skypaw. The mysteries of her parenthood and the mutations would be solved, and she could walk freely without any burden. They wouldn't start a territory. They would wander, and look for more secrets, and learn more things. Perhaps they would go into the mountains and find out if the world really ended there, as some cats claimed. She loved the idea of being constantly moving, never in one place for more than a few suns, going where no-one had ever been before.  
She could live alone, if she really had to. She had her hare and her shadows; they would keep her company, even if they were only delusions of her deformed brain. She could hunt and fight. She could walk. She could discover secrets on her own.  
Did she want to?  
No.

Twilightpaw came to a decision. She would forge ahead with her original plans. If being stupid and submissive was required for her to stay in the Clan, then she would do so. She would become a warrior, and she would learn the truth about anything she cared to. It was that simple. If Rapidstar really wanted her to leave that badly, he could shove his face into a badger's den, because she would not give him a reason to throw her out.  
Her mind made up, she spent her day hunting prey and deliberately avoiding the eyes of any cat who looked at her with either sympathy or pity. She wanted neither.  
The next morning she dragged herself out of the apprentices' den at dawn to find that the Scouring was once again part of the routine. This time, for the sake of it, she ran as hard as she could, and although she lost to Longpaw and Valiantpaw, she still beat Cloudpaw and Skypaw. Skypaw in particular struggled through the Scourings, but Twilightpaw knew better than to suggest she cheat. Besides, her performance in the Scouring had little effect on her daily life. The young medicine apprentice was stuck in camp for the vast majority of the sun anyway, so nobody really expected her to do well in the runs and it was part of the apprentices' tasks to ensure that the medicine cats had food anyway. Since it was such an easy job, originally there was some reasonably good-natured arguing about who would do it and get the break, but today there was no argument. Longpaw would use any excuse to get out of seeing his mother, and Twilightpaw also dreaded the odour of putrid disease that wafted from the den. Valiantpaw would have done it, but he had a soft spot for Cloudpaw, whose clumsy enthusiasm was endearing to him.

It was another lonely time in a moon that promised many of them. The three older apprentices were growing up and beginning to sort out their positions within the Clan's pecking order. Once upon a time Twilightpaw had been the natural leader of their little gang, but both toms had alpha natures and were not as inclined to be submissive to her as they used to be. She could still use her strong willpower to sway them, but she caught flashes of resentment in their eyes every time she did so. It would not be long before they began to turn on each other, a thought that depressed her immensely. They were her only friends and she didn't want to lose them, but it seemed likely that the only way out of this situation without driving away at least one cat was to submit herself to both of them, an idea she found intolerable.  
"It's the way of life," Silvertail said mildly when Twilightpaw complained to her about it later that day. "Don't come running to me. It happens to everyone sooner or later."  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
Silvertail sighed and looked away with an expression that said she would rather do anything than explain to an apprentice the facts of the world. "Clan life is competitive, and the higher up you want to go, the more fierce that competition gets. There's only a few spots on the leader's council and a lot of cats trying to get there. To separate the strong from the weak, a good leader will put pressure on his cats to see which ones will make it and which ones won't. In particular he needs to see how well they work in group dynamics as well as individually. It might sever a few ties, but that's all the better. It ensures total loyalty."

"So if I want to get to a high position I have to give up everything?"  
"Don't tell me you've never heard the saying "Clan before all else". It's in the First Code, for StarClan's sake. _Yes. _Those who give most to the Clan get the most out of it. Why do you think I had a litter? Certainly not for the charming company. But I can now say I have experience as a queen, which makes my opinion much more valuable."  
Twilightpaw narrowed her eyes at her foster-mother. "You had kits just so you could get more prey from the pile and Rapidstar's ear?"  
"Of course. There's a quota to be filled. LightningClan never has enough kits, which is why we have to adopt strays all the time."  
"Does Stormheart know that?"  
Silvertail turned her face towards Twilightpaw, and something flashed for a moment in the depths of that beautiful rich blue eye. "He wanted kits. I gave him one. Two, even."  
"I don't think we're the kind of kits he wanted."

"You're right about that. He had all these dreams, you know, about helping his kits through life, guiding them by the tail. He used to go through names with me, talk about how he planned on asking Rapidstar if he could mentor one of his kits. When you and Valiantpaw were too young to remember anything but milk he would come into the nursery as often as he possibly could, just to watch you and smell you. But you didn't warm to him. Not you, not Valiantpaw. Neither of you ever made any effort to seek him out or confide in him. When you, personally, had your fits of strangeness I would drive him from the nursery myself, because I knew he wouldn't be able to stay silent. Eventually he came to the conclusion that he was just neither wanted nor needed, and he was probably right."  
"Because of you," Twilightpaw couldn't help saying.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"You never taught us how to love. You never showed us what it was like. We didn't know that we were meant to love him."

Silvertail seemed almost amused by this. "You feel neglected?"  
Twilightpaw hesitated. "A little, yes. We missed out on a part of our lives that all other cats are supposed to have."  
The silver queen laughed softly. "Well, if you would have rather died on the moor being picked clean by vultures, forgive me for not giving you that choice. I gave you my milk and taught you to stand on your own paws. Even at such a young age you were smarter than most warriors. I don't expect you to thank me, but one sun you will realize that all I've done has had your best interests at heart."  
"You're right. I don't thank you for anything except not telling the entire Clan about my "fits of strangeness". By the way, Rapidstar wants to throw me out."  
Silvertail shrugged. "You're a mutant. He's a zealot. I'm surprised you thought it would end differently."  
Twilightpaw paced back and forth a few steps. "But it's not fair. He passes me off as useless just because I have a crooked tail because his religion says that warriors have to be perfect. This StarClan stuff is a load of dung."

"Correction: Rapidstar's _version _ofthe StarClan faith demands that his Clan be perfect in body and mind. That's because he was raised to be a medicine cat, and as part of that nonsensical brainwashing they all go through they're given the idea that StarClan gifted them with power to repair damage done to soul and flesh. Rapidstar was quite a ways into their training process when Moonpelt injured herself. When they swapped roles, Rapidstar carried his medicine cat beliefs into his warrior lifestyle, and they became twisted as a result. Since he can no longer heal cats, he believes it is now his task to pull the gristle from the meat, as it were."  
"It's still stupid," Twilightpaw growled.  
Strangely, Silvertail's voice softened. "But he took you," she reminded her foster-daughter. "Even though he could see your mutations, even though it went against what he perceived StarClan's laws to be, he accepted Moonpelt's advice. He took you in and gave you your name, raised you as any Clan kit would. He gave you the best mentor in the Clan and has never directly done you harm. So when you grind your teeth and curse his name, remember that without him you would not have survived."

"I just… I just want to be safe. I want to have a home."  
"Then prove yourself," Silvertail said, the brief moment of kindness gone. "Prove yourself invaluable to the Clan, the way Moonpelt did herself. She broke a leg and carries outrunner blood, but she earned the friendship of some rather high-placed cats so that instead of being thrown out of the Clan she was able to stay on as medicine cat. She got a second chance, Twilightpaw, something that rarely happens in LightningClan culture. Try hard. Fight harder. Catch more prey than anyone else. Prove that your bloodline and deformities cannot stop you from earning your place. Rapidstar is Clan leader but even he cannot go against the will of the majority. If enough cats want you to stay, then you will stay whether he likes it or not. And someday you may even give him reason to be glad for that."  
Twilightpaw stared into the silver tabby's eyes for a long moment, trying to find mockery, but there was none, and at last she simply nodded and walked away.

The sun seemed to take an eternity to slip into the horizon, but at last the air grew chill and the sky above the LightningClan camp exploded into a swirling froth of red, gold and exquisite violet, edged with the eerie shade of luminous blue that marks the fading touch of sunlight and the rising face of the moon. The shadows shed their day forms and paled into their wispy, sharp-edged night beings, and all the while Fernleaf clung to life, sometimes awake and sometimes asleep but never alone. Her breathing became slower and slower as it struggled to fight through the clogging mass of liquid pressing down on her chest.  
Although her body fought on, the truth was that her mind had flown to another world some time ago, and when her eyes were open they were glassy and lost. All that remained was her heavy shell of meat that continued some ghastly semblance of life that made her poor dying shadow writhe in a such a fashion that if it had a mouth it would scream until the earth fell away.

At the beginning of dusk, Moonpelt had pulled Twilightpaw to her.  
"It's quarter-moon, Twilightpaw," she murmured. "I have to take Skypaw and meet the other medicine cats at Sprit Creek, but I don't want to leave Fernleaf alone, and Greyfire has been up for two days and nights now without rest. Do you think you could sit with her? I'll tell Burningfur to let you sleep in tomorrow, I promise."  
Twilightpaw nodded, then hesitated. "What do I do if she…"  
Moonpelt looked to the first stars peeking through a curtain of cloud. "Dies? I'm afraid it's probably going to happen, dear. But there's nothing that you can do. Just wake Rapidstar; he'll know. I wish I didn't have to put this onto your shoulders, but I can't deprive the warriors of sleep and I won't force Longpaw to watch his mother die. You're the only one I trust to do this."  
Despite her conflicting feelings about the medicine cat and the situation as a whole she couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride about the she-cat's faith in her. "Give my congratulations to Skypaw, okay?"

Moonpelt licked the top of her head before walking away. "I will."  
So there Twilightpaw was, sitting at the mouth of the medicine den, watching the stars slowly trace their paths through the night sky. She had no desire to go any closer to Fernleaf, although from time to time she would creep close and listen for a pulse. The world kept spinning; Fernleaf kept breathing; Twilightpaw kept waiting.  
She was exhausted from her increased effort in training and still carried some remaining emotional damage from her visions, and it was probably because of this that the thoughts started intruding. When her eyelids began to droop and her sides longed passionately for the soft coolness of moss, she felt a slight burn of anger towards Fernleaf. She wished the black-striped she-cat would hurry up and die so the Clan could forget about her and Twilightpaw could sleep.  
Or was it her thinking that? The voices had been silent for the day, but they spoke in more ways than one.  
Fernleaf let out a little moan, and she flattened her ears in irritation. When she was dying, she'd at least make an effort not to bother the cats cleaning away her filth. Although, to be fair, there had been very little of that since Fernleaf didn't eat or drink anymore.

It was around midnight that she saw the movement flicker in and out of the camp. She held her breath, because although the darkness hid their shapes, she had recognized their shadows.  
Burningfur and Valiantpaw. They left the camp through a small gap in the camp's line of gorse that certainly had not been there when she had searched for exits as a kit.  
She watched them go, and felt an emotion she could not name. Jealousy? Fear? Betrayal? Who could say? Her words didn't extend that far.  
There had to be a reason for them sneaking out of camp without informing the sentry or Rapidstar. She couldn't think of any at that particular moment, but they were there.  
_In two nights' time stay wakeful…_  
No, she thought to herself, absolutely not. Fernleaf needs me. I can corner Valiantpaw tomorrow and get an explanation out of him.  
_You see, when I said "never mind" what I really meant was that it's none of your business._

__She could picture it right now, her demanding to know, and him neatly sidestepping her questions or reflecting them on to her. He would eventually feed her an excuse that sounded perfectly plausible, and she would believe him, and she would forget. The only way she would know would be to catch him in the act.  
She looked back at Fernleaf.  
_How strong is your spirit?  
_The she-cat had hung on this long. She'd survive a few more minutes.  
Her mind made up, Twilightpaw scrambled out of the medicine den and through the hole in the gorse before her heart could realize what her head had just done.  
Although Burningfur and Valiantpaw weren't announcing their presence to the world, they also weren't making any real attempts to be secretive, not even sticking to rocks to hide their pawprints or walking a ways apart so that a warrior discovering the trail later wouldn't note that they were together. This more or less confirmed what Twilightpaw had suspected; this had been going on for a long while, and they had grown complacent. There were _meant _to be patrols occasionally sweeping the area, but she would bet catmint for wolverines that Burningfur had stationed them elsewhere.  
How had such a thing started? She would have liked to believe that Valiantpaw had been taken advantage of, but she knew him too well. If there was someone being manipulated here, it was Burningfur.

Suddenly she remembered the fur, the fur that the deputy kept in her nest, the hairs of a tom. A mate. A mate no longer here, a tom that the entire Clan had apparently forgotten about. Silvertail had given her a blank look when she'd asked if Burningfur had ever had a mate.  
There was a fate among the Clans, a fate almost worse than death, given only to cowards and traitors. It was called the Fade, and whenever a cat betrayed his or her Clan whether through cowardice or otherwise, the entire Clan would simply forget him. Forget his name, his appearance, his relationship to other cats in the Clan. Nobody was immune to the Fade; it was said that the fourth leader of HollowClan earned this forgetting, and even his kits couldn't remember him after a few moons. If this cat ever reappeared among them, they wouldn't kill him, they would just ignore him, look through him like he didn't exist.  
So lost was Twilightpaw in these thoughts that she almost missed when Burningfur and Valiantpaw drew to a halt in a hollow in the ground. She didn't know it, and neither did they, but a few feet away was the very spot where she had nearly suffocated in the sand.  
Twilightpaw halted, carefully out of earshot. She didn't want to hear what they had to say.  
_Coward. Why did you come at all, then?_

Fighting a wave of nausea that encroached her gut, she shifted forwards a few steps.  
What would be the right thing to do? What would Longpaw do?  
He wouldn't listen, for one thing. He would already be on his way back, to awaken Rapidstar and tell him. He would think that was the right thing to do, and perhaps it was, but what Longpaw might not know or care is that it would be his word against theirs' and that Burningfur would have plenty of cats willing to give her an alibi.  
_Go home, then. Crawl back to the medicine den, watch Fernleaf die like a good little apprentice, then snivel like a coward to Valiantpaw in the morning when you know that all that'll happen is that he'll be more careful not to get caught in future. This is your one chance to change things, and you're going to run away from it because you're weak and useless._

__She lifted her head, and in the light of the wan crescent moon she saw Burningfur lick her brother's ear in affection. Anger swirled beneath her skin. _This was wrong. Sick._  
"_Hey_!" she spat, striding towards them.  
Burningfur sprang to her paws with a look on her face that would have probably been funny under different circumstances. Valiantpaw stayed seated, but he turned his head to face her.  
The ginger she-cat seemed to startled to speak, but her brother had no such concerns. "Evening, Twilightpaw. How long were you hiding there?"  
She fluffed out her fur. "I wasn't hiding at all. How long has _this _been going on?"  
Valiantpaw looked at Burningfur, who still seemed speechless. "This? A few moons, I guess."  
"And you never thought to mention it to me?"  
"Well, you were going to react badly no matter when I said it, so I thought I would tell you when it didn't matter anymore."

"Oh? And when would I stop caring that my mentor's having an affair with my foster-brother? My _apprentice _foster brother? My she-was-a-warrior-before-you-were-born brother?"  
"When _I'm _a warrior," he said, cheerfully enough, getting to his paws.  
Burningfur at last spoke. "I'll announce him as my mate then. If any cat thinks that's odd—let them. They'll have no proof."  
"No proof, except what I tell them," Twilightpaw growled.  
Her mentor sat up straight. "You do that, and I will do everything in my power to discredit you. No-one will believe anything that comes out of your mouth—if you're even still in the Clan by then."  
A flash of realization hit her like a thunderbolt. "You've already laid the groundwork, haven't you?" she spat. "Is that your idea of damage control, telling Rapidstar I'm a failure as an apprentice? Ruining my future before _I've even done anything?_"

Valiantpaw looked horrified. "You did _what?" _he cried to Burningfur.  
"Keep your mouth shut and you'll pass," the she-cat just said tightly to Twilightpaw.  
Valiantpaw shook his head. "No way. You don't get to do that to my sister. Even if you are trying to protect me. That's just…that's just over the line." The irony in this went right over his head. "Honestly, Burningfur, I don't care if cats find out. I love you. They can talk all they want."  
Her fierce gaze softened, and again Twilightpaw felt a pang of nausea. Valiantpaw turned back to her.  
"I can't stop you from talking, Twilightpaw," he said softly. "I know that. But we've done nothing wrong."  
"Nothing?" Twilightpaw said incredulously.  
"It's not in the Code," he pointed out.

"Not in the—how in StarClan's name does that change anything?"  
"We aren't breaking any rules."  
"Yes, you _are! _Just because something's not in the Code doesn't make it okay to do it! There's no law saying we can't murder our Clanmates on the spot, but cats have been punished for doing it all the same." _Faded.  
_Valiantpaw sighed. "Twilightpaw, I don't get what the big deal is. We aren't hurting anyone, and before today it wasn't affecting anything. It's not important."  
A memory flashed before her eyes, and suddenly she and her hare were speaking at the exact same time.

"Nothing important! Once upon a time there was a silver she-cat with blue eyes who used to say that. She would make others suffer, not through claw or fang but through her words, and that made it all the worse because they could never admit that she had hurt them or risk being called weak. And whenever someone did ask her to stop she would just look at them like they were stupid, shrug her shoulders and say, "What does it matter? They're just words. It's not important." Even though she was beautiful and clever and proud and had everything come naturally to her that others would never gain through a lifetime of effort, she wasn't a cat—she was a shell. A shell that could talk. She was beautiful, but she was empty. No-one would ever die for her, because she wasn't special, even though she had everything. She wasn't loved. She had a mate, though, a mate who looked just like all the other thousands of grey cats that have existed in the universe, but to those who knew him he was the most important one of all because he was kind and never spoke a cruel word and was as innocent and full of hope as he was in kithood. According to what you say, Silvertail's insults shouldn't mean anything to me because it's never anything of consequence. Stormheart shouldn't matter to me at all because his kindness doesn't help the world turn. Saying that it's okay to do something as long as it doesn't mean anything in the broad spectrum of things is stupid.  
"For hundreds of years, the Clans have endured, and if what the legends say is true then they endured for hundreds of years before that under another name. Never has there ever been a case of an apprentice and a warrior having a successful relationship. In most cases it ends tragically, with them either dying or running away. I don't want to lose you, Valiantpaw, you're the only family I have. You don't think that's important? Maybe not. But it's still wrong to me." Her voice broke on the last word, and she turned away so that they wouldn't see the sadness shimmering like unshed tears in her eyes.

Valiantpaw ran forwards to push his nose into her fur. "It's not like that, Twilightpaw," he breathed into her ear. "I'm not in danger. I'll never hurt you. What I meant was…I don't know what I meant anymore. And I'm sorry for everything about Silvertail. I didn't know that what she said hurt you so badly…"  
But Twilightpaw merely pushed him away and walked back to the LightningClan camp, and although he and Burningfur followed, they did so at a discreet distance.  
The camp seemed fresher with scent than it really should, and as Twilightpaw pushed through the main entrance of the camp, she saw what must have been nearly every cat in the Clan gathered around the medicine den.  
Something dropped, clean through her stomach, burning a hole through her flesh.

Rapidstar caught her scent and turned his head towards her. His eyes were like luminous coals, blazing with anger, but his voice was icily calm. "She's back from her stroll, it appears."  
A hiss ran through the Clan, and Twilightpaw found herself trying to become small. Rapidstar pushed her through the crowd of cats, and she shrank from the disgust in their gaze.  
The medicine den stank of death, but there were only three cats alive in there, not including Rapidstar and herself. Moonpelt didn't even seem angry; there was just a resigned disappointment that made Twilightpaw want to sink through the floor. Greyfire wouldn't look at her at all. But Longpaw was the worst. Standing over his mother's corpse, he snarled at her as fiercely he would a HollowClan enemy. "How could you do it?" he howled. "How could you leave?"  
"Twilightpaw," Moonpelt said, softly, so softly, "please tell me you have a good reason to have left camp when I asked you to stay."

Had she been her usual self, she would have come up with a plausible lie in a few seconds, but she was so exhausted and overcome with emotion that all she could do was run back out of the medicine den and stare at Burningfur pleadingly. "Tell them," she begged her mentor softly. "Please, please tell them."  
Burningfur hesitated.  
"_Please._"  
"Tell us what, Burningfur?" Rapidstar said, each word slow and deliberate.  
Twilightpaw closed her mouth, silently pleading with every fibre of her being, begging her mentor to throw her a lifeline, to help her out of this raging torrent of darkness.  
"I…I don't know," Burningfur said at last. "I won't lie for you, Twilightpaw. You have to face up to what you've done."  
Burningfur let her drown.


	18. Following The Wrong God Home

**NB: In this chapter, the language of the wild used is **_**not **_**a direct translation, as none of the characters are very proficient in it and the language itself is worse than English as far as grammar goes. The honorifics are a mixture of Japan and Korean.  
Also note that "Agro" has a silent g, and is pronounced like **_**arrow.**_

Twilightpaw ran.  
The night turned to day, the moon's gentle caress turned into the sun's fierce glare, the stars faded into the painful blueness of the morning sky.  
She ran south, not really knowing why, only understanding that she could not go north or west because that was Clan territory and her dreams of heading east into the mountains were just that—childhood fantasies. That was before she had betrayed one friend, and been betrayed by another.  
The moorland gave way to ragged outcrops that dug at the pads in her feet before being replaced by softer grass and scattered woodland. It was nothing on the beautiful heath of her home, and there was a faint reek of Twoleg pervading the air, like blood at an old battlefield.

The Clan had not stopped her as she'd bolted through the camp entrance and away, but even now she could feel their gazes of disgust and anger burning through her fur, digging into her spine and flowing into her thoughts.  
_Run, coward, run. Run like a rabbit without a warren. Run like the outrunner scum you are. Go throw yourself under a shining beast! Everyone would be better off.  
_"SHUT UP!" she begged, but they gave her no relief, those voices in her mind, and they only strengthened as her body weakened.  
Her chest hurt and she could feel a ripping sensation within her lungs. Her heart was palpitating like a sparrow in flight, and her muscles were contracting and twisting with pain. She'd never felt deep, aching pain like this, not in her battle, not even in her emotions—not this agony that warned her that her flesh was being destroyed from the inside.

And still she ran, because she as long as she moved, she didn't have to think. When she stopped, she would have to make plans for the future, where she would live, where to hunt and sleep. The wind that stormed through her ears made the voices ever-so-slightly harder to comprehend.  
Suddenly the lush grass underpaw hardened into rough stone, and Twilightpaw stopped, looked up and realized she was on a Thunderpath. It took nearly half a minute for this fact to slide into her exhausted, damaged brain, and by the time she had grasped it, a shining beast was roaring towards her, its voice so loud that she instinctively shuddered away. The hot scents of metal and smoke burned her nostrils, but she could not bring herself to move. Part of it was simple weariness, but another part of it was her higher reasoning, darkly wondering if it was better to have a quick death here and now than the life of guilt and solitude she would face.

In the end, her primeval side decided for her, and it galvanized her muscles a heartbeat before the shining beast was upon her. As she bolted away, the beast screamed and swerved. Was it searching for her or trying to avoid her? The shining beasts did not have sentience as a true animal did, of course, but they had hunted cats before.  
She stumbled into a copse of trees, lush with newleaf flowers, and the ground slid from underneath her as her chin hit the earth. The world seemed garishly colourful and reeked with oversweet scents. Yet even as she struggled to account for this sudden hypervigiliance, her body promptly released its hold on consciousness, and she fell away into a pool of darkness, leaving the colours and odours behind.

_She was standing now.  
And she was up high.  
So incredibly high that the entire world was sprawled before her like a nest of moss, and as she gazed down, she saw tiny specks of light that somehow she understood were shining beasts. They seemed so small. So insignificant.  
And if such powerful monsters that roared with such rage and strength were nothing—what did that make her, and her petty fears, hopes, and dreams?  
Less than nothing?  
She wanted to be sick, and tried to drag her gaze from the dizzying drop below, but as she surveyed her surroundings she realized there was nothing else to look at. She was standing on a platform, the tip of a spike of metal rising high above the Thunderpath from far beneath. It was a strange Thunderpath, for instead of land it jutted over an enormous mass of grey water. There were no bridges in her territory, but she instantly understood that it was a way of travelling from one side to another without getting your feet wet, and for a moment she admired the ingenuity of Twolegs. Then she went back to being terrified._

_There was no room to move—certainly not with the Twoleg standing right next to her.  
He was shuffling back and forth, transferring his gaze from the river to the sky above, producing such a strong odour of fear that it nearly covered her own. He turned in a circle, peering down to the bridge and the winking lights of shining beasts, seemingly unable to see Twilightpaw.  
The platform was too small for his shadow, and so she had no way of finding out what had brought him up here, so high, when he was clearly so afraid.  
Then the Twoleg straightened his back and took several deep breaths. "I have decided to do this. Me. No-one else. Not Daniel, not Steve, not…not…Felicia." He pressed one of his strange paws with the ridiculously elongated toes to his face. "Felicia." He said her name again, and this time there was a faint drift of lust. _

_Twilightpaw wondered briefly how on StarClan's green earth it was possible for her to not only understand Twoleg speech but to also be able to read his scents and feelings. Then she realized the absurdity of trying to rationalize anything her deformed brain spat out.  
"They'll all be sorry," he said, and she got the idea that he was not just talking to himself but to the world, a world that he, for whatever reason, did not particularly enjoy much.  
"They'll all be sorry for laughing at me. For calling me fat…for teasing me. For all the cruel words and things they've done. And even if they aren't, at least they won't be able to hurt me anymore." His front-toes curled. "I wasn't good enough for you, was I, Felicia? You never gave me a glance. You laughed when I gave you flowers. Stupid, selfish bitch. I hope you end up with the worst guy in the world."  
Twilightpaw was still trying to figure out how climbing up to what must be the highest point in the world helped him with solving his problems. Maybe it was just cathartic. Maybe he was actually speaking to some god or ancestors of his, and hoping for guidance._

_"I'm gonna do it," he said, shuffling closer to the edge. "I am. I am. Nobody can stop me. This is my decision. For the first time in my life, I'm doing something just for me. No more doing this for that person, never receiving any gratitude, never getting nothing 'cept more work. I'm gonna jump."  
Jump?  
She glanced at the horrible drop below, and finally understood. This was no pilgrimage to beg for aid. This was suicide.  
Funny. She had never thought that a person brought to such depths of despair that he could rationalize taking his own life would be so incredibly self-centred. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but she had no breath or lungs to speak with.  
She didn't think he was going to jump, though. He clearly didn't want to. If he really wanted to fall, it was easy enough to do; all that was needed was one big step. He'd lose his balance, and there would indeed be nothing anyone could do. But he was hesitating, trying to justify it to himself one last time, and his fear gave him away._

_Then he did jump.  
It was as though in slow motion; he braced himself, all his muscles tightening, before stretching out his hands and leaping forwards like a kestrel diving off a branch. For a brief, terrible moment he seemed to hang suspended before he flashed down to the water.  
As if a tendril had connected them, Twilightpaw was pulled off the edge too, screaming as her worst fear burned into her. The dark, murky water rose up to swallow them greedily.  
The man hit the water. His bones separated from his flesh and splintered on impact; his meat was pulverized into a quivering red mass, barely recognizable as anything remotely animal. Blood frothed on the filthy waves.  
Twilightpaw felt nothing as she landed, no emotional connection, merely a dissonant kind of emptiness. He had not wanted to die and yet he had jumped anyway. It seemed so pointless.  
The heavier bones were already sinking, but now and then she would find a tooth or a toe bone, and she shuddered and wished for it all to go away._

And awoke.  
It was raining, a faint, misty drizzle that tapped her ears gently but insistently. Twilightpaw sneezed water out of her nostrils and lifted her head from the muddy puddle she found herself in. Her body ached terribly, particularly her legs and chest; hunting was out of the question, although her stomach was raging louder than a bear. She climbed out, trying to ignore the clammy coldness of her wet fur.  
She ate grass until her belly was tricked into thinking it was full, and drank deeply from a clean puddle nearby. It was late morning, meaning she had slept the entire day and night away. No wonder she was so stiff and hungry.  
She scented the air for living prey, but the glade she had slept in was regularly visited by Twolegs and their odour clung to the trees and kept any decent meals away. It was her fortune to have not been found by them already; perhaps the rain had driven them off. So she shook her pelt free of what mud she could and started walking south again. At least the movement warmed her up and chased some of the stiffness from her limbs.

Thunderpaths became more regular as she walked through the morning, and soon she caught glimpses of the stone dens where Twolegs lived, although they were spaced wide apart from each other. At one point she strayed from her path to get a better look, and cleared the flimsy metal fence to examine it.  
Again, there was the smell of Twolegs, but as time went by she had grown more used to it and stopped thinking of it as so unpleasant. Instead, she began to note that there were different parts to the smells; the scent of smoke and wildflowers undercut most of them.

Two shining beasts crouched silently in the yard, and Twilightpaw looked them over carefully. They took no notice of her, and she could hear neither breathing nor heartbeat and could not sense any sign of life at all. Yet they could move and roar and their eyes glowed in the dark like cats', so what did that make them? Creatures that the Twolegs gave life to and then took back once their work was done? The very thought frightened her, so she left the beasts to their slumber and looked elsewhere.  
A dog was resting in front of a clear section of the den wall; he opened his brown eyes and watched her carefully, but did not show any signs of aggression or wanting to chase her.  
"Greetings, _sudarta-si_," Twilightpaw said politely, in the common language of the wild, not catspeak.  
"Aye, greetings, _neko-san_," he replied roughly in the same language. "Best be getting on. My pack-masters are not fond of stray _neko."  
_"I'll go soon," she promised. "I'm looking for a place to live. A place with lots of prey, fresh water, and shelter from this damn rain."  
"Aren't we all searching for that?" the dog said softly. "Try your mother's den. You seem a little young to be wandering the wilds on your own."

"I don't have a mother," she said. "I'm on my own."  
"Then find a human, act cute and live with it. It's not hard. The neighbours' _sudarta_ managed it and he's as ugly as a bear's backside." He stood up with a long-suffering air.  
"I don't want to live with Twolegs."  
"You seem to know an awful lot about what you don't want and what you don't have. Maybe try reversing that, might get you somewhere."  
Twilightpaw shot him a look. "You're not helping."  
"I'm a _sudarta. _Since when do we help _neko? _Particularly wild _neko? _All you do is hunt and kill and make much ado about nothing." He sighed. "You're too young to live out there on your own, pup."  
"I am not!" she snapped. "My leader told me I wasn't."  
"Your _leader,_" said the dog patiently. "And he's done that, has he? Lived on his own in the middle of a human valley with no knowledge of where to get food, water, shelter? Without understanding what kinds of dangers are out there?" He snorted and shook his head. "If you want to survive in this place you need to learn how to work with humans. They're not bad. Most are decent as long as you don't irritate them. Try living in a stable and see how you go."  
"A—a what? Stable?"  
"Aye. A stable is a place where humans keep _equa—_horses. There's a lot of straw and prey and humans don't tend to mind if there's _neko _running around in there so long as they don't interfere with the _equa."_

"Where can I find a—stable?"  
The dog huffed. "Poke around. You do know what an _equa _smells like, yes? Just follow your nose."  
"I don't know what one smells like. I've heard of them, never seen them. I grew up in the snow moons—Twolegs didn't come into my territory then."  
The _sudarta _blinked and sighed before padding over to her. "For the love of—Follow me, then. I'll take you to the nearest stable. I think there is already a _neko _living there, but they're a decent sort—for your kind."  
"Other cats don't bother me," Twilightpaw said, shivering slightly in the rain. "Thanks for helping me. But won't your Twolegs be upset that you're gone?"  
"Why would they? They know I'll come back."  
Her brow furrowed. "So you…you aren't really a slave, then? You can come and go as you please?"  
The dog started walking into the fields, weaving in and out of the gathering mist. Generally dogs do not use their voices for communication, but since dogs and cats could not read each other's body language, he was forced to speak in a rusty, under-used monotone.

"I am the worst kind of being in the world," he said, and raindrops trickled over his brow and under his eyes. "I am a beast who chooses to be a slave. I need no chain or rope or shock collar because though I wander every day, every night I will return to my humans. I love them and I guard them, and that is my bond, my chain. That is, perhaps, the greatest evil of humans…when their kindness takes you into their world and makes you forget whatever else you might have had. You feel grateful to them, simply because they give you good food and a warm place to sleep." He fell silent, and Twilightpaw followed him through the world.  
They went past a few more Twoleg dwellings, keeping well away from the nests themselves, though they were scarce and far between. Usually it was one giant nest surrounded by a sea of meadows and fields, barricaded by metal and wood. Lone Thunderpaths snaked like shining black rivers through the rain, and strange, malodorous beasts chewed grass under shade in the pastures.  
They skirted a herd of such creatures. One lifted its black-and-white head to watch them go by, and Twilightpaw mewed a greeting, but it merely swished its tail and said nothing.  
"You won't get much out of them," the dog said. "Cattle—_bovin_. They give their milk to humans, and they're beasts of few words."

"_What_?" Twilightpaw said, disgusted. Milk was something only infants had. A ghastly image of a Twoleg sucking from a _bovin_'s teat would not leave her mind.  
"Not straight from the cow. They have a machine that drains the milk from their udders and puts it into containers. The humans drink from that. Sometimes they give it to their _neko, _who seem to enjoy it."  
"That's…disgusting," was all she could think to say. "What milk is left for their young, then, if the _bovin _give it all away to Twolegs?"  
A shadow seemed to fall across the dog's face. "There are no young," was all he said.  
They passed other dogs, too, most of whom nodded to Twilightpaw and her companion quite politely. A particularly large black bitch, however, was aggressive enough for the dog to hastily backtrack and give her territory a wide berth. There were cats, too, who paid neither of them any attention at all once they understood that they were not going to invade.  
Twolegs kept a variety of birds. One sort was brown and temptingly plump, with a scent that made her stomach rumble, but when she looked at the dog he bared his teeth at her and shook his head. "Touch nothing that belongs to a human if you wish to keep your head, _neko-san_."  
Another was very large, pure white, and vicious. "_Out! Out! Get out!" _it honked and lunged forwards to snap at her.

At last, with the rain beginning to abate slightly—"Figures," Twilightpaw muttered, they arrived at the stable.  
"It's not big, and like I said, there's another _neko, _but there are plenty of mice and humans don't come here a lot," the dog said.  
'It' was a small building made out of wood, and showed signs of disrepair, with planks missing and sharp-edged spikes of rusting metal scattered everywhere. Despite this, the stable smelled quite comforting—like the moors on a hot day, with the sweet scent of dry grass. There was a cat-sized gap between one of the fallen planks. She entered, and opened her mouth to take in more scents.  
Twolegs, yes, but not as strong as in some places, and their odour hardly bothered her anymore. Rats and mice, and their droppings. And, of course, the rich, earthy smell of some large animal whose footsteps she could hear in the small, fenced-off area outside. Was there another cat? It was hard to tell with the much stronger scents overloading her glands.  
"Goodbye, _neko-san,_" the dog said politely. "This is a stable. It's not for me, but I hope you like it."  
Twilightpaw knew she would not see him again unless she deliberately sought him out. "Thank you, _sudarta-si."  
"San_," he corrected her, and padded away.

She turned back to the stable. "Hello?" she called out in catspeak, her ears pricked for any sound. "Come out."  
There was a rustling in a pile of hay nearby, and a small tom-cat crawled out. He was a raggedy dappled grey with fur that hung in ungroomed mats. His eyes seemed very wide, until Twilightpaw realized that he was frightened of her, albeit being much older. He was also quite thin, despite the strong scent of prey that perfumed the air, and he reminded her of the Twoleg in her dream—why, she wasn't entirely sure.  
"Hello," she repeated, trying for a tone that was assertive yet kindly. She wasn't sure if it worked; he took a few steps back.  
"Hi," he said. "This is my territory, just letting you know. Has the dog gone?"  
"Yes. Do you mind if I live here too? It won't be forever. In fact, it may not be for more than a few suns."  
The tom-cat eyed her. "I can't really stop you, can I?"  
Twilightpaw shifted uncomfortably, wondering why he was so nervous of her. Then it hit her. He was not small for a wildcat; she was just large. Her upbringing of ready meat and good exercise had made her stronger and healthier than he could ever hope to be.

"Thanks," she said, exhaling sharply. "The beast outside—the horse—what's it like?"  
The tom frowned. "Actually, I don't talk to her that much. She's…well, she's not a social butterfly. Or maybe my wilderness speech is just bad." He seemed to have relaxed a little.  
"And how often do Twolegs come in here?"  
"Twolegs?"  
"Humans," she said in wild talk.  
"Oh—the Upwalkers. Twice a day. They drop hay in the horse's manger, and then they go away. They've never looked once at me. Good news for safety…bad news for the stomach."  
Twilightpaw tilted her head. "But there are a lot of mice here. Aren't there?"  
His eyes widened again. "Oh! You mean you actually hunt and kill them? Wow! But I was never taught how, you see, so mostly I just eat Upwalker scraps from their containers. Quite tasty, in fact, but not really filling. Or healthy."  
_Never taught how to hunt? _What a strange world this was, Twilightpaw thought, but then something else occurred to her. Perhaps it was the Clans that were strange. After all, outrunners did not live together, except for a mother and her kits.

"What's your name?" she said, attempting to steer the conversation back onto familiar ground.  
"Don't have one," he said, echoing Fluffy.  
"Well, what did your mother call you?"  
"I don't remember. I don't see a lot of other cats, so I've never needed a name—most animals around here don't, except the ones that Upwalkers give them. Do you have one?"  
"Yes, of course, it's—" but she stopped. She wasn't a Clan cat—did she have the right to carry a Clan name? "Twilight," she said at last.  
"Okay. Well, I'm going out to look for food. Please don't follow me." He darted out of the stable, flashing a look over his shoulder.

Twilight sat down, rubbing her back at a loose board. Well, she had a home of sorts, and it would make a good base while she learnt what was what in this strange new world. A world where everyone avoided each other, had no names, and feared and revered Twolegs. A world full of apprehension and uncertainty.  
A snorting sound made her look towards the exit of the stable, that led into the fenced-off area where the horse supposedly was.  
Twilight carefully padded towards the opening, wrinkling her nose a little at the not entirely unpleasant scent of the beast's dung. She looked out.  
The horse was of a similar size to the cattle, except it—she?—was as black as shadows, save for a small patch of white on her forehead and several smears of dirt encrusting her body. She rested her head rather dispiritedly on the wooden planks of her fence.  
Her paddock was disgusting. It was pure slop—a mud created of dung and earth churned by the strange stone paws this horse had for feet. There was not a blade of grass or anything green, and Twilight winced as her paws slipped across the foul-smelling surface, causing a _squelch. _  
The horse turned, revealing a fine-boned face that would have been lovely to look at, were it not for the haunted sadness in the deep, dark eyes.

"Hello," Twilight said in wilderness speak.  
"Greetings, little one," the horse replied in a surprisingly high-pitched tone of voice.  
"I've…I've decided to live here. In your stable. For a short while. Not long, I hope." She was babbling, unnerved by the vast size of the horse's feet and teeth.  
"You are very, very welcome," the horse replied. "I rarely have company…I frighten the smaller ones, I think. Particularly the other _neko. _Do you have a name, little one?"  
This breath of gentle courtesy was enough to soothe some of her nerves. "I'm Twilight," she said, and wondered if that would be her name forever more.  
"Twilight," the horse replied thoughtfully. "A beautiful name for a beautiful she-_neko. _Welcome, Twilight-san. I am Agro."  
_Agro. _The word meant "wanderer" in the wilderness speech, and she wondered if it was a name that had been given to the horse or if she had taken it herself.

"You look sad," Agro said.  
"Yes," she replied. "So do you."  
Agro looked down. "I have stood here for five years, longer than you have been alive, if I am any judge. Day by day, night by night, I stand in this mud, with nothing but my own thoughts. I have gone moons without ever speaking to another animal. It is…a burden."  
_Five years. _"What of your Twolegs? Your humans?"  
"They do not care for me. They give me food and water, and that is it. They do not ride me or pat me anymore. Once upon a time I was bought for their daughter, but she is now dead and I…I remain." She lifted her head up to the afternoon sky. "May I ask you something? A favour?"  
"Of—of course."  
"Thank you. Do you see the apple tree above the stable?"  
Twilight looked up. Yes, she did, a fine, thick-limbed tree, heavy with fruit, which seemed very odd for this time of year. "I do."  
"Will you climb up and eat one, then tell me the taste?"

A strange request, but the horse's eyes were intent, and Twilight was still very hungry, so she leapt onto the fence palings, before climbing up to the stable roof and plucking a red fruit from a branch. At first it was difficult to bite into due to its rounded shape, but eventually she pinned it against the roof and tore mouthfuls of flesh from it.  
She stayed on the fence palings when she returned, not wanting to dirty her paws in the sludge again. "It tastes…sharp but sweet at the same time. Like…when you wake up in the morning and feel the cold wind against your tongue, or when you drink from a frigid stream."  
"Thank you," Agro said, but she seemed strangely disappointed. She swished her tail and rested her head on the fence, near Twilight.  
"Why did you want me to taste the apples for you?"  
"Because I never will. The fruit does not drop into my run."  
There was a moment of silence.

"So," the young cat said, "how do you pass the time? If you have no-one to talk to?"  
"I eat, sleep, and wait," Agro said calmly, and tilted her head to look out across the small Twoleg path that cut across the field nearby. "Do you love someone, little one?"  
Twilight simply stared for a moment. "You mean as a mate? No."  
"I mean, is there anyone whom you would follow to the end of the world? A true friend, one who fills in the empty parts of your heart?"  
"I—" she stopped. She had been about to say Longpaw and Valiantpaw, but was that true? Valiantpaw had deliberately lied and held secrets from her, and he had not spoken for her when Fernleaf died. Longpaw had not wanted to hear any explanations for her absence, and had jumped at the opportunity to blame her. Likewise she had broken a promise and abandoned his sick mother to spy on her brother. They had all behaved cruelly.

"I don't know," she said at last. "I really don't."  
Agro reached upwards and touched Twilight gently on the forehead with her muzzle. "To get, you must first give," the mare said. "To find, you must first seek." She returned to gazing over the lane. "I have a friend whom I would give anything to speak to."  
"Really? Who?" Twilight asked.  
"Bianca," Agro said with a sigh. "A human, kind and gentle as the dawn. She walks by my stable nearly every day and greets me—she should be here at any moment now, in fact. That is what I wait for, and I don't mind, because she is my friend."  
A Twoleg. Twilight thought of the dog, and his claims that the love of Twolegs made him into a slave. "Are you sure that this Bianca thinks of you as a friend?"  
Agro's ears pricked up. "You will see, for here she comes."

Twilight breathed in the scent of the wind, and sure enough, there were three Twolegs heading down the path. As they approached, she guessed that they were children, for they were not quite as big as the other Twolegs were and did not carry such a harsh scent of fire.  
Twilight wasn't entirely sure how to tell the difference between males and females when it came to Twolegs, but she had seen young toms compete for the attention of a lone she-cat before, and the behaviour was strikingly similar. They were strutting, nudging her, occasionally glaring at the other. So the one on the receiving end of this affection must have been Bianca.  
If Bianca had been described to her by another cat and she had then been made to pick the girl out from a crowd of Twolegs, in all likelihood she would have found it impossible. As far as looks went there was nothing distinguishable about her. Bianca's head-fur was brown, her skin was pale, and her eyes were black. She was much shorter than the boys, and smelt very strongly of flowers. That was it.

But seeing her now, next to Agro, Twilight knew that if she lived for another fifty years and was then made to pick Bianca out from many, she would know her in an instant. It was something in the way that all the sadness fled from Agro's eyes and her head lifted to nicker a greeting. All of a sudden the girl was not just some Twoleg; she was Agro's Twoleg, Agro's friend, and this was enough to turn her head-fur from simply brown to the colour of rich earth after rain; her eyes became the dark of a moonless night, and her smell shifted from bland flowers to the sweet scent of roses. It didn't matter if a thousand Twolegs shared her looks—none of them walked past Agro's fence nearly every day.

Bianca stopped and smiled sweetly at them both, her front paw fluttering in a way that was probably a greeting. "Hello, horse."  
Twilight was startled briefly; how could she understand Twoleg language? Then another thought occurred to her; had anyone in the Clan ever said they couldn't?  
Agro nickered back, and even Twilight could not hold her silence and gave her a quick mew.  
"Oh, a kitten!" Bianca cried, her eyes lighting up. The young males were unimpressed by both cat and horse. One plucked an apple from the tree.  
"That nag?" the other boy said with a hint of scorn. "Been there for ages. It belongs to old Mac, but as far as I can tell he's never done anything with it, not even let it out of the paddock. No wonder it's so fat and dirty. And look how gross its feet are, all overgrown."  
"I think she looks fine," Bianca said.

"That's because you've never seen real horses," the boy with the apple said. "Now, my uncle owns a stud. Has a stallion that ran third in the Derby. I could show you on the weekend, if you like."  
"Oh—no thanks," Bianca said, clearly only half-listening. The other boy gave him a mocking glance, and the apple-boy's gaze hardened.  
"Let's see how fast this nag can run." His paw raised the apple over his head—and threw it straight at Agro. It landed on her flank, and she cried out in pain, a sound that briefly split the world into two.  
"_Don't! _What the hell are you doing?" Bianca screamed. The other boy was hooting in amusement, and pulled off an apple of his own to throw. This hit Agro between the eyes. She whinnied again but didn't move, staring at Bianca.  
Bianca just watched the boys, her face growing white, but said nothing. At this, Agro turned and fled into her stable, but not before a third apple bounced off her haunch.  
"Five bucks says I can hit the cat," the first thrower said.  
"Done," the other boy replied, but Twilight had already ducked behind the fence. _Come near me and I'll claw your eyes out!  
_She should have fought them. Burningfur and Longpaw would have cleared the fence and scratched them until they bled. But something about the casual way they turned to violence frightened her, and they were so much larger. Ears pressed to the back of her head, she crept into the stable after Agro.

The mare looked shattered, crouching on her knees in the hay, refusing to look up. Twilight lay next to her, and gently began to clean some of the mud from Agro's face and neck. She could not think of anything to say, except, "At least you can taste the apples for yourself."  
As soon as the words left her lips, she felt absolutely awful, but Agro did not react to this. Instead she said, "I know why they call it heartbroken, now."  
Twilight's tongue brushed across the white patch on the horse's forehead. It was already tender and swelling.  
"Horse!" called a sweet voice from the outside. "Please come out! The boys are gone. I sent them away."  
Agro's head jerked up, and Twilight smelt fresh apples. She mutely followed the horse back outside.  
Bianca waited, one paw holding an apple, the other anxiously clutching the fence, nails digging into the wood. The apple was one of the sweetest and reddest on the tree, without a single bruise or any insect damage.

She held it out to Agro. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," she said, and there was water flowing from her eyes. "I'm never going to speak to them again, I mean it."  
Agro reached forwards and daintily plucked the apple from the girl's hand, and there was a brief, juicy crunch before it disappeared down her throat.  
Bianca tentatively reached forwards and began to run her paw down Agro's face, murmuring to her gently. Twilight found herself wanting to look away, uncomfortable with the entire premise, and thought back on the horse's earlier words. _One who fills the empty parts of your heart.  
_"Don't listen to them, girl. I don't care if you haven't been brushed. You're beautiful, and I wish you were mine." She pressed her mouth to Agro's forehead, before walking away, a noticeable lack of spring in her step.

Agro, on the other paw, looked as though she could fly to the stars for a few moments. "I wish I could leave," she said fiercely. "One day I will."  
Twilight looked at the sturdy wooden planks, held together with metal. In disrepair it might be, but it was still strong.  
"One day I will escape and find her," Agro vowed. "Everything I have—everything I can do—I'll use it to find her."  
"Steady on," Twilight muttered. It made her feel more than a little lonely. How was it that a neglected horse in a dung-flooded paddock could find and keep a friend when she couldn't?  
Some of the fire faded from the mare, and she turned back to Twilight. "Why do you stay here? You aren't trapped."  
"Seems as good a place as any," Twilight pointed out.  
"But it's not. There's nothing for you here, any more than there is anything for me. Food and shelter—is that really all you want from the world?"

Twilight looked down.  
"Go home, Twilight-san," Agro said, gently but firmly. "You are a good friend and I am grateful for your company, but no-one should live the life I have led, nor the life of that scared little _neko _in the stable. You are young and strong and healthy, but if you stay, that will not be so. I don't know where you came from, but you carry the scent of other _neko _in your fur, and that is something you will not find elsewhere around here no matter how hard you look."  
"It's more complicated than that," Twilight said, lowering her head. "I…I did something bad. Something really bad. I…I was supposed to watch over my best friend's mother, because she was dying, but I left. I knew I shouldn't have left, but I did it anyway, and she died while I was gone. I think he hates me now."  
"I doubt that very much, little one," Agro said, and Twilight looked up, startled.  
"How do you know?"  
"It isn't as easy to hate as you might think, especially not when it comes to a friend you love. I'm sure he's very angry, yes, and if you leave that anger long enough, he will hate you. But right now? Did you have a good reason for leaving his mother?"  
Twilight hesitated. "It…it seemed like a good reason at the time. I thought I wouldn't have gone for more than a few minutes. My brother was up to something and I wanted to find out what it was. Only…it was worse than I had imagined, so I stayed too long."  
"Do you hate your brother for what he's done?"  
"No. Of course not. It was wrong for him not to tell me, but he did it for…" she stopped, realising what the horse was getting at.  
"I'm sure your friend is very angry," Agro repeated, "and I am equally sure that he is also worried sick about you."  
"But I can't just go back! I ran away. Rapidstar was a mousetail away from throwing me out anyhow. He'll never let me back into the Clan."  
"Did you get an opportunity to explain yourself to your friend before you ran away?"

Twilight shook her head.  
"Then you must go back, at the very least, to explain to him why you left his mother. And to say proper goodbyes to your family. I don't think you will be truly content until you do."  
Twilight could find no answer to this, so she just said, "I need to hunt."  
Agro nodded. "Of course. Go ahead." Then she laughed, a sweet, gentle sound. "The apples. They taste like…"  
"Like?"  
"…kindness."  
Twilight was uncertain what to make of this, so rather than hanging around and hunting in the stable, she travelled a distance. There were plenty of rabbits in the fields, but most of her time was spent lost in thought. A growing, niggling part of her knew that Agro was right. If nothing else, Longpaw deserved an apology and explanation.  
It was dusk by the time she returned to the stable, but she was too tired and heavy of heart to speak to Agro, who was still in her paddock. A storm was coming; the first of the hot moons, and the air tasted sour and pressed heavily against her skull.  
The little grey outrunner had already settled into his nest, keeping well clear of her. Twilight looked at him, and was struck by how utterly alone he was. Afraid of his own shadow, clearly disliking her presence but not brave enough to drive her away. According to Agro, this was how she would end up if she stayed.  
She fell asleep just as the rain started to pour.

Twilight opened her eyes, sighing and flexing her limbs. It was the best night's sleep she'd had since the battle with HollowClan, warm and safe in her nest of straw. The storm had passed, and the world was redolent with the sweet scent of wet earth.  
The grey outrunner was already up, and was standing half-in, half-out of the stable's exit to Agro's paddock. He was frowning, but even his unhappiness couldn't sour such a beautiful dawn.  
"Morning," she said to him, and he looked back at her.  
"Hi. What are you still doing here?"  
"Well, I'm going out to see Agro. The horse."  
"What horse?" the cat said.  
"Are you trying to be funny? The big black animal that hangs around in the paddock out there."  
The cat shrugged. "I don't see her."  
Twilight stared, then rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She pushed past him into Agro's run, and discovered that he was right.

Agro was gone, and all that was left was several splintered planks of wood from where they had broken away from the fence and the dark stain of blood.  
"Oh," Twilight said.  
And for one moment she wished she could cry.  
"Ah, well," the outrunner said, "I guess the Upwalkers were tired of her wasting space. Or—"  
"Shut up," Twilight snarled. "She's not dead. Do you see a body anywhere?"  
"Upwalkers don't leave corpses lying around."  
"Shut _up! _She's not dead, she's just…gone. She left."  
Twilight could see it now. The thunder in the night had silenced Agro's movements. The mare had kicked at the flimsy fence, again and again, until it began to crack. Then, tasting freedom, she had leaned against the wood, putting all her weight behind it, ignoring the metal and wood gouging into her flesh and spilling her blood, until it had fallen away.  
But she wished the mare had lingered to say goodbye.  
"Even if she's not dead," the outrunner said, "where on this green earth could she go? Horses aren't like cats or dogs. Upwalkers don't let them run around wild."

"She went to find her girl," Twilight said softly.  
"Her girl?"  
"Bianca. The Twoleg that walks down this path nearly every day."  
The outrunner shook his head. "Never noticed. Oh, well…can't say I'll miss her that much. Wasn't a social butterfly, you know?"  
"Did you ever try?" Twilight asked. "To speak to her, I mean?"  
The grey tom-cat stared at her for a moment, puzzled, and Twilight shook her head with mingled sadness and resolve. She could not stay here. She would either become like Agro, so lonely and desperate for company that she would give her heart to anyone who showed her the smallest measure of compassion, or like this outrunner, so wrapped up in his own life, scared of his shadow, nameless, friendless, lost. She didn't want to be that way, not if she could avoid it. Maybe Rapidstar wouldn't let her back in, but she could join another Clan. Shadowstar had offered her a place.  
"I'm leaving today," she told the grey cat, and he made no effort to hide his relief.  
"Good fortune, then," he said, and returned to his empty stable.  
Twilightpaw padded through the hole Agro had made, stopped, and looked back, just for a moment. She thought of a fragment of a poem she had been told, when she had been very young. Who had said it? Stormheart? Moonpelt? Perhaps even Silvertail?

_If you don't know the kind of person I am,__  
__And I don't know the kind of person you are;__  
__A pattern that others made prevails in the world__  
__And in following the wrong god home we miss our star.  
If suddenly __you forget me,__  
__Do not look for me,__  
__For I shall already have forgotten you._

The air smelled of rain and apples.


	19. LightningClan

**Moon of the Flowering Trees, 4****th****–7****th**** Sun**

Getting back was harder than it seemed at first. Twilightpaw had reckoned on being able to simply follow her own trail back, but the rain had washed it away, and she found it difficult to remember the landmarks, especially as everything seemed to look the same. The grey cat had refused to show her the way and only reluctantly pointed her in the right direction after she had threatened him with extreme violence. He seemed extremely cheerful at the prospect of having the stable to himself, and she suspected that he would have forgotten all about the vanishing horse and the wandering cat within a week. She did not point out to him that with Agro's meals gone, the mice population would decrease and there would be far fewer carcasses lying about for him to eat.

She trailed north, following the scattered scraps of her scent that had not been cleansed by the rain. Twice she became completely lost, and had to ask for help from the locals, who showed various forms of indifference to her in response; the cattle simply did not speak, while the dogs and geese chased her, and other animals just ran away. It had only been the timely arrival of a sympathetic Twolegkit (or "house cats", as they had called themselves) on both occasions that had put her back on the right path again. Though they had no notion of the Clans or even of the moors, they knew the dog that Twilightpaw had spoken to, and from his territory it was easier to find her way as the trees had kept her scent line intact.

Coming back was a much longer journey than leaving, and not just because she wasn't always sure where to go. She had still not fully recovered from her desperate, damaging gallop from the moors; her legs felt tired and stiff, and she often had to rest.  
Her spirit was weakened, too. She dreaded the thought of seeing the LightningClan again. The opinions of most cats didn't bother her; she had never liked them, they had never liked her, and it wouldn't make much difference each way if that dislike grew. She doubted that she would be allowed to return to the Clan, so Rapidstar's anger didn't faze her that much either. No, it was the thought of facing Longpaw and explaining to him exactly why she had left his mother to die that made her want to run back to the stable and hide in a pile of hay for the rest of her life. There was no way it could end well. Either she would spill the beans on Burningfur and Valiantpaw (an idea that still made her stomach churn) and possibly enrage her brother or she could be evasive and lose Longpaw forever. Really, it came down which one of them mattered most to her, and how well she knew them.

Then there was Agro. Despite the fact that Twilightpaw had only known her for less than a day, somehow the loss of the mare had hurt badly. There was also the small fact that deep down, she knew that the outunner was right: a Twoleg would not let a horse run around loose.  
Half of her refused to admit this, and pointed out that Agro was clever and knew how to hide. There weren't a large number of Twolegs in the area. Bianca would take care of her, or find someone who could, and Agro would live in peace until the end of her days. And when she listened to this, her steps and heart lightened; the journey seemed effortless and the goal achievable.  
But the other half, the hardened, cynical bit, sneered at this. It didn't matter if Agro was the smartest horse in the world and could evade the Twolegs for moons; she didn't even know where Bianca lived, and to get there she would have to undoubtedly cross Thunderpaths and go near Twoleg dwellings. One glance would be all it took. They would hunt her down, and they would either kill her or capture her, dooming Agro to lonely captivity. Neither horse or cat knew for certain that Bianca would even take Agro in. She had said she _wished _the mare was hers, but she had not stopped the boys from throwing apples at Agro and had never made an attempt to help her escape. In the same way that Twilightpaw and Valiantpaw regarded promises as empty words, so too might Twolegs towards kindness. She certainly hadn't seen a vast amount of it so far. And when she thought this, it felt as though stones were pressing down upon her spine and she wondered why she was going back at all.

So she strained her eyes, desperately hoping for a glimpse of her friend, and at one point she did glimpse a dark-coloured horse galloping through a field—but the wind was blowing in the opposite direction, so she could not catch the scent, and the horse was too far away to hear her call.  
_Apples, _Twilightpaw thought to herself, whenever the dark voices in her mind grew loud, _apples. I'm doing this because of the taste of the apples. _  
It quietened them, for a little while.  
She missed her hare, whom she had not seen since leaving LightningClan. She'd had too much on her mind before to notice his absence, but she could have really used a bit of enigmatic wisdom right now to let her know if she was on the right track.  
So she walked on north, watching the world dry before her eyes as the wind chased the clouds from the skies. She stopped to sleep in the same clearing she had two nights previously, but this time she did not dream.

It took another sun and a half to find her way back to the moors, and Twilightpaw was more discouraged than ever. She had no idea if she was even allowed back on LightningClan territory—though she was not formally exiled, it hadn't stopped them in the past—so she was forced to sit by the southern border and wait. Since it wasn't held by any Clans, it was rarely patrolled, and she'd been sitting there for half a sun before someone found her. She didn't eat, because although it wasn't technically LightningClan prey, she didn't want anyone to accuse her of theft.  
It was Lilacbreeze and Runningflash that found her, and she thanked her luck. If it had been someone who hated her, like Wolfclaw or Dreamcloud, she'd have been driven off, and if it had been someone like Stormheart she would have been forced to explain herself on the spot. Lilacbreeze and Runningflash, however, were relatively neutral towards her, and so they merely put her between them and took her to LightningClan camp. They did not say anything.

It was late evening when they arrived at camp, which was probably the worst possible time to come back. The majority of Clan cats were home at this point, eating or sharing tongues, and she felt their eyes piercing her pelt. Their fading shadows displayed a range of hostility: some spat at her; others turned their backs; still more just stared with their masters. She caught sight of Valiantpaw, who had a half-hearted attempt at a smile, and Longpaw, who refused to look at her. Burningfur followed them into Rapidstar's den, her tail twitching and her mouth grim.  
The blue-grey tomcat was swallowing the last of a leveret, and his amber eyes glinted slightly in the evening gloom. "She returns, then," he said, his tone unreadable. There was not enough light for his shadow to be present.  
"Leave us," he said bluntly to the other cats in the den. Runningflash and Lilacbreeze exchanged looks before obeying. it was a small thing, possibly even an accident, but just before she left, Lilacbreeze's tail gently brushed Twilightpaw's shoulder. Somehow that strengthened her, knowing there was one cat in the Clan who didn't completely hate her.  
Burningfur was less acquiescent. "She is my apprentice," the deputy began.  
"At this point in time, she is not," Rapidstar growled, and stood up. There was a silent test of dominance between the two cats, of the sort that happened all the time between leader and deputy. If a leader proved to be weak-willed, a deputy could stage a coup. This time, however, Burningfur bowed her head in submission and left after only a few moments of defiance.

"Now," Rapidstar said once they were alone, "what am I to do with you, Twilight?"  
Twilightpaw looked down at her paws. Her only knowledge of how an outrunner should behave towards a Clan cat in power was from a discussion about hunting rights between a loner and Burningfur. The loner had only referred to Burningfur by her title, so Twilightpaw attempted to do the same. "Clan leader—"  
"Stand properly and look me in the eyes. You are not currently a member of LightningClan and therefore you owe me nothing but courtesy. I do not tolerate obsequiousness in any case."  
Twilightpaw stood as tall as she could and met his amber gaze. "Clan leader, my fate is entirely in your paws. I know that what I did was wrong on so many levels. My only request is that you give me some time to speak to my friends in the Clan, to explain to them what really happened and say a proper goodbye."  
Rapidstar's eyes narrowed. "You accept your crime, then?"  
She frowned. "My…crime, Clan leader? Yes, I suppose."  
"I mean that you are willing to go to trial? You have a defence ready? You see, I must proceed with Clan protocol before I decide what is going to happen to you."  
"A—a trial? Clan leader?" she hastened to add.  
"Yes, Twilight, a trial. Ordinarily it is carried out in front of the entire Clan, and all would help decide your fate. In this particular instance, I am holding a closed trial, and you must convince me of your innocence and me alone. This is to ensure fairness and to spare a lot of cats pain, including yourself. Are you ready?"  
"I don't have a defence. I don't want one."  
"Then you need only to speak the truth. It may be that will serve you best in any case. Tell me your story, as clearly and accurately as possible, and remember that you are not just speaking before me, but before all the spirits in StarClan." He sat down again, though his gaze never left her.

Twilightpaw took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to gather her thoughts. Finally, she spoke.  
"On the second sun of the Moon of Flowering Trees, I was put in charge of watching my friend Longpaw's mother, but at one point during the night—"  
"All of it, I said, Twilight. Why were you watching Fernleaf instead of Moonpelt or her apprentice?"  
"They were on their way to the Spirit Creek to speak with StarClan, as it was the first night of the crescent moon, and Skypaw was being initiated in to the ranks of the medicine cats. Fernleaf was very, very sick, close to death, and Moonpelt didn't want her to…die alone."  
"Why you in particular? There were other apprentices and warriors in camp who would have agreed to the task."  
"She said…" Twilightpaw tried to recall Moonpelt's exact words. "She said that she wanted Longpaw and Greyfire to get some rest, as they had been up for so long without sleep. And that…I was the only one she trusted to watch Fernleaf properly."  
Rapidstar looked to the mouth of the den for a few moments, apparently lost in thought. He shook himself and glanced back at her. "Do you have any idea why she said that? That she only trusted you?"  
"I…we're friends, Clan leader. I think I could say that I was on more familiar terms with her than most cats."  
"I see. Continue, then. You were watching Fernleaf in the medicine den, I assume."  
"Yes. I was there for quite a while, probably until after midnight, when I heard noises. I went to the mouth of the den to investigate and…I…I saw something intriguing."  
"And what exactly was so intriguing, Twilight? Keeping in mind that lying to me _will _result in your permanent expulsion?"  
Twilightpaw looked down. "Clan leader, it is not my secret to tell."  
"A secret belongs to any and all who keep it, little one, which is why we are meant to be so careful with them. Wasting my time dancing around an issue will not help your case, Twilight, so spit it out."  
She bit her lip and hesitated one final time. "Burningfur and Valiantpaw," she said at last, and Rapidstar sighed. She could not tell if it was in resignation or disappointment. "I see," he said again. "You saw them leaving camp?"  
"Yes, Clan leader. I saw them and I wanted to find out what they were up to."  
"Was Fernleaf still alive when you left?"  
"Yes, she absolutely was."  
"Did you, at any point, think that there was a possibility of her dying while you were gone?"  
"How is this relevant, Clan leader?" she dared to ask.  
"Answer the question, Twilight," Rapidstar said, although he did not seem irritated. This was a side of him that Twilightpaw had never seen before, and she realized that it must be a quality of true leaders: the ability to judge the fate of others without bias.

Twilightpaw thought. "I…yes and no. I knew she was very sick and close to death. But she had also survived for so long already, and I did not think that I would be gone for more than a few minutes."  
"Did it occur to you to inform anyone else of the unauthorized departure of Burningfur and Valiantpaw? The sentry, a senior warrior, even myself?"  
"It did, Clan leader, but I decided against it. Technically, they were breaking no part of the Code or any Amendments, and I thought…I guessed what they were up to, and I didn't want anyone else finding out about it."  
Rapidstar tilted his head. "Did you ever think to install someone else in your place, to watch over Fernleaf?"  
"No. I did not."  
He was silent for a time. "So, you left camp—through a secret entrance that Valiantpaw and Burningfur also used, I assume?"  
"That's right. I followed them for a time and caught up with them some distance from camp. I overheard them talking and decided to reveal myself." She paused, expecting the blue-grey tom to comment, but he merely looked at her.  
She continued, "I showed myself, and told them that what they were doing was wrong. Burningfur told me that I would fail my apprenticeship if I told anyone—"  
"Stop. Burningfur threatened you?"  
"Yes, Clan leader. She then said that if I kept my mouth shut, I would pass. Then Valiantpaw became angry with her and said that he didn't care if cats knew about his affair, that he loved her. I argued with Valiantpaw, and then I returned to camp."  
"Whereupon you were met with the fact that Fernleaf had indeed died in your absence. You went to Burningfur for help?"  
Twilightpaw nodded. "I thought she would explain to you the circumstances surrounding my disappearance."  
Rapidstar frowned. "Then you believe that the circumstances do mitigate the results?"  
"Are you asking if I think that my reason for leaving was a good one? Yes, I do, but I still know that it was wrong."

The tom stood up and began to pace for a while, back and forth, his paws swishing over the sweet-scented heather in the den. Outside the sun had slipped past the horizon, and the only light was the pale glow of twilight. At last he spoke.  
"The crimes that you have been charged with, Twilight, are the following: absence without leave, desertion of a post, and insubordination.  
"The following factors aggravate your crimes: You performed them in full knowledge that what you did was wrong; you were aware that the cat in your care was close to death; when you noticed your Clanmates leaving camp without alerting the sentry, you broke the chain of command and followed them; and upon learning of Fernleaf's death, you did not explain your motives when questioned. Do you disagree with any of the above?"  
"No, Clan leader."  
"The following factors mitigate your crimes: One of the cats leaving camp was the Clan deputy and your mentor; this cat in question intimidated you into silence; you performed these acts with no malicious intent; after your desertion you returned to LightningClan within twenty suns; and you are a young apprentice who has not sworn her formal warrior vows. Do you disagree with any of the above?"  
"No, Clan leader."  
Rapidstar nodded. "Then by the power granted to me via the spirits of the stars above, I, Rapidstar, leader of LightningClan, pass judgement upon you. You may return to LightningClan and be re-sworn as an apprentice of the ranks. Should you do so, your punishment will involve the following: confinement to the camp for two moons, unless your mentor or Clan leader orders otherwise; you will sleep in a solitary den at night-time for three moons; you will be the sole caretaker of the elders for one moon; you will make a formal apology to the Clan tomorrow morning; you will be forced to undergo a Swallowing once a week for the next two moons; you will eat last at every meal; and finally you are to clean out the bedding of all the dens for a half-moon. Your other option is exile."  
For a moment Twilightpaw was too stunned to speak. Although the idea of eight Swallowings was horrifying, the rest of the punishment seemed…_reasonable. _

"Choose, Twilight. I want to sleep," Rapidstar ordered.  
"I…I want to return to LightningClan, Clan leader."  
He nodded. "In that case, you will need to make a formal renewing of your vows as an apprentice. Twilight, daughter of Silvertail, do you swear total and utter obedience to your Clan, leader, and mentor?"  
"I do," she said softly.  
"Do you swear to learn the Warrior Code, and the skills of a warrior, to the best of your ability?"  
"I do," Twilightpaw repeated, and was startled to find that she meant it.  
"And do you swear to uphold and promote the faith in StarClan—that which gives us our might?"  
"I do," she murmured.  
"Then by the power vested in me as Clan leader, I, Rapidstar, hereby reinstate you as a LightningClan apprentice. From this sun forwards you shall be known as Twilightpaw." He lowered her head until it was very close to hers. "Bring honour to your Clan, little one, whether you were born here or not."  
Twilightpaw nodded. "I will, Rapidstar."

He shifted back onto his haunches. "There is the matter of your mentor. Although you appeared to be doing reasonably well under her guidance, it has become apparent that it would be foolish of me to expect that to continue. Therefore it seems that you require a new one. Should she accept, your mentor will be Crimsonflame."  
Twilightpaw blinked. "With all due respect, Rapidstar, but isn't Crimsonflame…a little inexperienced for mentorship?"  
Rapidstar sighed. "Process of elimination. Burningfur is out of the question. Silvertail and Stormheart are, for all intents and purposes, your parents, and I try to avoid that. Flywing is close to retirement; she will mentor no more apprentices in this lifetime. There is no point giving you a mentor who will shortly move to the nursery, so it can't be Lilacbreeze. Dreamcloud dislikes you, and Runningflash lacks the patience to be a mentor. I believe you can guess for yourself why Crimsonflame is a better choice than her brother." He guided her to the entrance of his den. "The two of you have generally gotten on well with each other. It may not be a perfect situation, but it is the best of few options."  
Twilightpaw nodded. "I understand. But, Rapidstar—why are you doing this? A few suns ago you wanted me gone, didn't you?"  
At last Rapidstar seemed somewhat impatient. "I did, yes, but your testimony has given me reason to believe that Burningfur was not entirely truthful when reporting to me about your progress. My words before remain true, however, so train to the best of your ability and prove yourself."  
She bit her lip; she knew she was pushing her luck, but she couldn't help herself. "And what about Burningfur and Valiantpaw? Will they be punished?"  
"You may be a member of LightningClan again but you have not earned the right to sit on my council. Go and make your nest; I will address the Clan."  
She dipped her head in submission and they were a few steps out of the den when Rapidstar said abruptly, "You've changed, Twilightpaw. That's why I was willing to give you another chance. I don't know what occurred on your journey to make it so, nor do I want to, but you are no longer a child. Make sure you don't regress."

She could think of nothing to say to that, so she merely padded away. She stopped when her leader's voice swelled so that all Clan cats could hear him.  
"Cats of LightningClan, I have made a decision, and that is to reverse the exile of the apprentice Twilightpaw. She has reinstated her vows to the Clan and has accepted her punishment, and you should make her as welcome as you would any denmate." There was a soft sneer of derision among the gathered cats that Rapidstar ignored. "Crimsonflame, Burningfur. My den, if you please." Crimsonflame seemed only startled, but Burningfur shot Twilightpaw a withering glare before stalking into the leader's den.  
With a sigh, Twilightpaw surveyed the edges of camp, looking for a new den site. She wasn't the first to have been punished with solitary sleeping, and there were several remnants of old dens tucked in among the gorse walls. She eventually decided on a small niche with pieces of dead wood placed strategically around it to block out the wind, and pulled up mouthfuls of grass to make a nest. It would be uncomfortable but warm, and perhaps tomorrow she could convince Crimsonflame to let her add moss and heather. She was required to change the other nests in any case, so even if her new mentor said no it wouldn't be difficult to embezzle some.

She was rolling in the grass to flatten it properly when Crimsonflame approached her; it was now full night, and her figure was illuminated by the faint glow of the moon and stars.  
"I'm your new mentor," Crimsonflame said in a tone of mingled apprehension and pride.  
"Yeah, I know," Twilightpaw responded. "I'll…do my best."  
The she-cat nibbled her lip. "Just…listen to me, OK?" she said. "I'll make mistakes, I know I will, but humour me."  
Twilightpaw suddenly discovered a tiny fleck of apple flesh between two of her hind teeth and worked it out with her tongue. "I can do that."  
Crimsonflame gave her a faint smile before walking away to the warrior's den. Twilightpaw watched her go, wishing she'd thought to ask if Rapidstar had said anything to Burningfur.  
Her stomach rumbled, stating its own priorities. There was no-one else gathered around the fresh-kill pile, so Twilightpaw quickly devoured a rabbit. She looked around for Longpaw, but he was probably in the apprentices' den, where she was forbidden to go.

A faint shadow in the moonlight rose to greet her, and she smiled in surprised pleasure as she recognized her hare. "You're back."  
"Did you ever doubt it?" he replied calmly, sitting by her side. His horns had shrunk somewhat, but his fur glowed more brightly than ever.  
"Did Agro find Bianca?"  
He was silent for a time, his ears twitching. At last, he said: "We simply can't build our hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death…so I believe she did."  
It was not exactly what she'd wanted to hear, but it was something. "What should I say to Longpaw?"  
"The truth," he replied instantly. "You owe him nothing less. But wait until he is ready to hear it."  
Twilightpaw nodded and returned to her nest, where she curled up in the grass, her hare resting on her neck.

If she dreamed that night she did not remember them the next morning. The dryness of the air awoke her and she shook the stiffness out of her limbs as she climbed out of the nest. The sky was the shade of pale-grey-before-dawn, yet it was already surprisingly warm. Inwardly she groaned at the thought of the afternoon, and training in it.  
Crimsonflame had not been a warrior long enough to have adjusted to sleeping in and was already eating with Phantomfall and Whisperhunt. Twilightpaw kept a careful distance from the fresh-kill pile as she groomed scraps of grass from her fur. Phantomfall ignored her and Whisperhunt hissed softly, but neither said anything. Crimsonflame was slightly more welcoming and gave Twilightpaw a quick smile before finishing her rabbit.

The other apprentices staggered out of their den, Cloudpaw complaining under his breath about the heat. She sympathized with him; his fur and build was much thicker than what was typical for a LightningClan cat, which led credence to the rumours that his father was from another Clan.  
"Morning, Twilightpaw," he said somewhat awkwardly as he saw her, "I'm glad to have you back." Whisperhunt snorted at this but Cloudpaw ignored him with a slight backwards tilt of his ears.  
"I'm glad, too," she told him, and smiled at Skypaw, who butted her head gently into Twilightpaw's shoulder.  
Valiantpaw tried to give her a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were wide with some emotion she couldn't read. Apprehension? Anxiety? She remembered Rapidstar calling Burningfur into the den.  
Longpaw ignored her completely, his expression cold and distant as he padded to the entrance of camp. A stab of pain pricked her heart and she wanted to speak to him, but now was not the time and he didn't seem willing to hear her in any case.  
"We're all here, then," Crimsonflame said, her whiskers twitching. "I don't want to spend any more time in this weather than you do, so let's try and make it fast, okay?"  
There was a murmur of assent from the apprentices and they followed the warriors to the starting point in silence. When they were told to run, they did, but no-one ran very fast; it was simply not worth becoming overheated and thirsty this early in the day. The fact that none of the mentors punished them for this was a mark of sympathy for them.

Twilightpaw ran properly for about two-thirds of the race, then took shortcuts for the rest of it, coming second to Longpaw. She tried to speak to him while they were waiting for the others to come back, but he wasn't having any of it, turning his head away every time she opened her mouth.  
When an exhausted Skypaw finally stumbled through the camp entrance she joined Twilightpaw in watching the others eat.  
"Where…did you…go? When you…went away?" the little she-cat panted, her sides trembling. Twilightpaw gave her a look of consternation; she wasn't just slender, she was skinny: far too thin for a medicine cat apprentice who didn't get much exercise. Missing the morning meal wouldn't cause her to lose that much weight, particularly not when prey was delivered to her at regular points throughout the sun.  
"I went south and I met a dog and a horse," she replied almost absent-mindedly, wondering if it was stress that was weakening Skypaw or if someone was deliberately keeping her from food.  
"A real horse? What was it like?"  
The brown tabby turned to look into her friend's soft blue eyes. "A bit like you, I think."  
"Hey—Twilightpaw!" She turned to see Crimsonflame beckoning to her with a tail. She rose and padded to her new mentor's side. Crimsonflame seemed unhappy about something; she twisted her neck from side to side for a few moments before speaking again.  
"It's time for the first Swallowing of your punishment."  
Twilightpaw bit her lip. "Right now? Could I maybe eat first?"  
The ginger she-cat shook her head. "It's better if you have an empty stomach for this," she said softly and unhappily. "You'll be forced into a Swallowing every week for two moons. Refusal will lead to your exile."  
"This is barbaric," Twilightpaw said, but without her old heat.  
"Believe me, I know. I've had a few Swallowings of my own. I'd like to say it'll get easier, but…well."  
"I've Swallowed before," Twilightpaw reminded her. "I can take it."  
"Then…start Swallowing. Wolfclaw will bring you water once you're done."

Twilightpaw looked to Crimsonflame's side and noticed the pile of pale grains at her paws. Her belly churned with a mixture of nausea and dread, but she pushed it away and began to eat the grains. They were sharp, hard and tasteless, and they stuck to the insides of her throat and mouth, but she found herself savouring the last few moments before she would be forced to drink the water. She wished dearly that it had not been Wolfclaw chosen to watch her suffer, but there was nothing to be done about it anymore. Her stomach filled, and she felt slightly ill with the weight of fibrous vegetation inside her, a substance that no cat would normally eat. When they did eat plants, they stuck to fruit or herbs.  
At last the grain pile was empty and Wolfclaw approached, holding a large clump of moss in his mouth. The water trickled down his chin as he pressed it to her lips, holding her throat up with his paw. He applied pressure to the moss with his teeth and Twilightpaw was forced to drink or choke on the liquid. His face was expressionless, but she thought she caught a glimpse of distaste in his eyes; for her or for her punishment, she couldn't tell.  
At first it wasn't too bad, but as more water entered her stomach and the rice grains swelled the nausea set in. She couldn't help herself; she gagged and Wolfclaw stepped back while she coughed and spluttered. Once she was able to get a breath he was there again, forcing water back down her throat. Her belly stretched under the mass and weight of the swollen grains and it was quickly becoming agony. She wanted to scream and pull away, but Wolfclaw's paw held her head still, and Crimsonflame sat at her back to prevent her from running.

At last the moss was dry and Wolfclaw released her. Twilightpaw staggered, the sheer weight in her stomach interfering with her balance. Crimsonflame curled a tail over her and guided her to her nest. She left just as Twilightpaw started to vomit, retching with a sound that made the other Clan cats shudder, but all she could feel was relief as the pressure inside her lightened slightly.  
It was five hours before she felt capable of standing upright. Her nest reeked, her throat felt like she'd tried to swallow a bramble bush, her head pounded ferociously, and her tongue was dry and swollen. _Seven more times, _she chanted to herself as a mantra. _Seven more to go. Get used to it. _Although she was desperately thirsty and wanted nothing more than the foul taste in her mouth be chased away by soothing water, she did not dare go near any source. There might yet be unswollen grains left in her stomach.  
To her surprise, Valiantpaw came to her as she crouched for a rest, holding another strand of moss in his teeth. "You probably don't want to swallow, but you should clean your mouth and face anyway," he said awkwardly. Twilightpaw thanked him and sucked the moisture out before spitting into the ground. Her brother gently dabbed the moss around her jaw, and she thought of the Children of the Dark.  
"What's going to happen to you, then?" she croaked, her voice sounding thin and alien. "I told Rapidstar about you and Burningfur."  
"Nothing too terrible," he replied, dropping the moss. "We weren't exactly breaking any rules, but we've both been yelled at by Rapidstar and forbidden from seeing each other again. Our exit's been closed up anyway, so I'm not sure how we would have managed even if he hadn't."  
"Well, I would say I was sorry, but…I'm not."  
"That's okay. I'm not sure I really want to see Burningfur anymore, though. She didn't stand up for you when you…left, and she threatened you." He looked down. "I would have waited, you know? However long it took for me to become a warrior, I would have waited and just looked on from afar. I thought she was worth it."  
Twilightpaw used her tail to make him meet her gaze. The anger she had nursed in her heart during her exile was gone now. He was only a child; it wasn't his fault, and he had never meant to hurt her. "You don't think that anymore?"  
"It's just…do you remember the sun right before the battle? When I told you that I disliked cats on sight so that it wouldn't hurt so badly when they disappointed me?"  
"I do."  
"It wasn't like that with Burningfur. She understood me. I was so frustrated with the whole stupid Clan, getting in my face about not trying hard enough or not showing up for punishments, when all I wanted to do was just hunt and learn. At first she just taught me politics, like any good mentor…" He shook himself. "But she's not so different from them after all, is she? She's the deputy of LightningClan, and she wouldn't have gotten there if she didn't like the way it worked. Why didn't I realize that?"

"I don't know," Twilightpaw replied bluntly, "but I doubt that beating yourself up about it is going to help. Burningfur's always been a riddle wrapped in an mystery wrapped in an enigma. I've never guessed what goes on in her head." Now it was her turn to look down. "But I did think that she liked me. Or that at the very least we'd gotten past our old enmity. I was stupid. She told me right to my face that she never forgave anything."  
Valiantpaw touched his nose to hers. "I should have told you. I hope you understand why I didn't, but I should have said something."  
She licked his cheek. "I do understand. Are we friends again?"  
He gave her the hint of a smile. "I think so. At the very least, we can move past Burningfur. We both deserve better than that bitch." They both snickered, remembering the many kittish spats they'd had with her.  
Twilightpaw sobered. "How has Longpaw been?"  
"You know that I'm never sure about these things, but he seemed to be doing OK. Well, not really, but he's holding himself together at least." Valiantpaw glanced up. "In another moon or two he'll be a warrior."  
"Jealous?" she teased.  
"Hmmph? Oh, no. I was just thinking that we're all growing up, whether we like it or not."  
"Didn't Lightningstar say that time was a warrior's best friend and greatest enemy, for it would always win its battles and yet always delivered its victims to peace?"  
"Lightningstar said many things, and I highly doubt he came up with each and every one of them on his own." Valiantpaw stretched, the muscles sliding under his mahogany pelt. "I have to go hunt now. Do you want to come with me?"  
She grimaced. "I would, but I'm not allowed to, and I don't think I should push my luck this early. Besides…I'm not sure if I'm up to a long walk." Although most of the pain in her stomach had gone, she felt weak and slightly dizzy.  
He nodded. "I'll see you around, then." He padded away.

Twilightpaw took a deep breath and released it slowly before walking to the deep hole by the nursery. It had been dug long ago by warriors for nursing queens and kits, who needed to drink more water than warriors could regularly provide. It would have taken them a very long time; aside from the small fact that cats were not suited for digging, the sands of the moors did not hold water, so they had been forced to rip into the peat and cut a slope into the side so cats could safely approach it. Still, the hole undoubtedly saved many more hours than it had drained. Nobody could remember which Clan leader had ordered its construction.  
She swallowed a few mouthfuls of the water, pulling a face at the taste—the peat made it bad enough, but the muck in her mouth was disgusting. Still, she drank a few mouthfuls, and was relieved when nothing seemed to expand inside her. Her throat ached with less intensity.  
Feeling much better, she began some of the tasks her punishment demanded; she cleared and replaced all the bedding and groomed the elders. Ambershade refused to look at her, upper lip stiff with disapproval, but oddly enough Missingclaw had welcomed her more warmly than ever before.  
"You were an idiot for leaving the old bird," he said. "You were a coward for running. A coward for staying away, too. But brave for coming back. Brave for staying here."  
"I didn't think Rapidstar would let me stay," she told him, pulling a flea from his fur.  
"Bah! He's no fool, though at times I wonder. Gathering's in a few suns. Big trouble, oh yes, needs all claws possible. Probably won't let me go, either. You'll have to tell me what happens."  
At this Ambershade snorted. "You've finally gone senile if you think anyone's going to take her."  
"She's still here, and would thank you to address her properly," Twilightpaw said icily. Ambershade muttered something about arrogance, but did not reply.  
"Has to take you, don't he?" Missingclaw said, ignoring his fellow elder. "Clan law. New apprentices have to go. You re-swore your vows, makes you a new apprentice, therefore you go. Remind your mentor of that, though, just to be sure."  
"I will, thanks," Twilightpaw said, stretching up to groom the last mat of fur behind his ear. "You're both done now, so I'll take my leave, unless you're hungry?" She hoped not. The afternoon was beginning to close, though the heat had yet to abate, and she wanted to make her new nest. Her old one was fit for nothing but burial.  
Ambershade opened her mouth, but Missingclaw cut in front of her. "We're fine. Go take food for the little medicine kit, though. She is too skinny."

Twilightpaw nodded in agreement and a minute or two later she was hesitantly poking her head into the medicine den, a rabbit in her jaws. Guilt and shame hung heavily over her, and every time she blinked the image of poor dying Fernleaf was branded in the blackness. _Forgive me, _she whispered softly in her head. _I never thought you would die.  
She won't forgive you. Why should she? You're a monster and a coward.  
_"Come in," the medicine called, an edge to her voice. Twilightpaw padded to the back where Skypaw was sorting herbs.  
"Don't touch anything, stranger's child," Moonpelt said. Her eyes drifted across Twilightpaw's face.  
Twilightpaw dropped the rabbit. "Not me," she assured her softly, "I just came to bring Skypaw something to eat."  
Skypaw sniffed the rabbit somewhat listlessly. "Thank you, Twilightpaw," the little she-cat said, but made no move towards it. There was an awkward silence between all three cats; Twilightpaw cleared her throat and padded towards the fading sunlight.  
Moonpelt followed her. "Twilightpaw," she said.  
"I really am sorry, Moonpelt. I never…I never would have left if it were not important."  
"More important than your duty? More important than your friend?"  
Though she knew she deserved to be punished severely, suddenly she was weary to the bone of being yelled at for something that she could not change. "Spare me, okay? There's nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself a thousand times. I made a mistake, a really bad one, but what can I do about it now? Bring her back to life? Rewind time?"  
Moonpelt blinked. "Self-pity? I expected better."  
"_Don't. _Don't expect anything from me, ever. I'm sick of it. I don't owe you anything and I certainly don't need to prove anything to you, so if you're hoping that you can turn me into a better cat simply by saying that I can be, well, save your breath. I'm only going to disappoint you." She stalked away and did not look back.

Twilightpaw spent the rest of the sun burying her old nest and making a new one, lining it with some of the moss and heather she'd swiped from other sleeping places. It was not as strategically placed as her previous den but the sweltering heat did not appear to be going anywhere. The air was almost unnaturally still; now that she thought on it, she hadn't felt a breath of wind since the previous night.  
That night, she did dream.

_It was the old dream, the one where she clung to the shoulder of a mountain while the wind laughed in her ears. She was larger and stronger now, but did she have it in her to pull herself back to safety?  
_No, _said the wind.  
_Yes, _cried something else.  
She tried. She grunted under the effort, straining forwards to reach the ledge above her head while the vast drop yawned beneath her. Her heart boomed in her ears and the wind flayed her skin with claws of ice.  
But it was not enough. She was still too weak. Perhaps she always would be.  
Her grip loosened and she fell, tumbling into space, head over heels until she was unsure what was ground and what was sky. Her stomach jumped into her throat and she screamed, but it didn't matter anymore.  
The ground rose to swallow her up; she slammed into a crest of earth and tumbled into a swathe of perfect white. She knew she was dying, her bones splintered and piercing her organs, but the pain seemed so far away.  
_Thud-thump-thud. Thud-thump-thud.  
_It was not her heartbeat—that had stopped—but it hardly seemed to matter anymore. She was free. Twilightpaw lay back into the frost and smiled as dark hooves trampled her, painlessly, peacefully, into the virgin snow. _


	20. The Second Gathering

**Moon of the Flowering Trees, 14****th**** Sun**

**Hi all, exams and the planning of a new story were the cause for the long interval, not to mention that typing six or seven thousand words does take time. I am doing my best to update where and when I can, so stay with me ****  
The poem about LightningClan is an altered version of Robert Frost's **_**Fire and Ice.**_

The full moon shimmered gold like a cat's eye as it hung over the horizon, and as she looked to it Twilightpaw was struck by how much had changed since she'd last seen it.  
The most recent week had seemed so slow in comparison. Twilightpaw had thrown herself into her training with a zeal that shocked everyone, especially herself. Yet it had been enjoyable, and there were three reasons for that.  
Firstly, training was the only time she was permitted to leave the camp, and a welcome break from the monotony of chore after chore.  
Secondly, when she was away from other cats she couldn't hear the hisses of disapproval or the mocking. Dreamcloud was the worst, but there really wasn't much between them all.  
Finally, it kept her mind clear. Not only did the voices subside when she focussed, she couldn't think about her guilt or Longpaw, who was still not speaking to her.

The week had been about an even mixture of good and bad, really, now that she thought on it. Crimsonflame was generally good company, although her inexperience did hold them up. Twilightpaw had to fight to keep her temper just the other day during battle practise when the young warrior had to consult another warrior every ten minutes on what skills would be acceptable for Twilightpaw's level. Crimsonflame had a tendency to snarl or sigh loudly at her apprentice whenever she put a foot wrong, and as they were close in age it rubbed them both the wrong way quickly. Knowing that she was one snarky comment away from being tossed out of the Clan for good, Twilightpaw had adopted the rule of speaking only when spoken to when it came to the company of older cats.  
When she was with Valiantpaw and Cloudpaw, she relaxed somewhat. Cloudpaw simply acted like she had never left, frequently requesting her for a hunting partner despite the general disapproval, especially from his mother. At first Twilightpaw had thought him simply naïve and that he didn't understand how her stigma was contagious; then she realized that he was trying to look after her. She found that strangely touching, particularly when they'd never had much contact before. When she'd finally asked him why he bothered, he'd simply said, "A denmate's a denmate, and you'd do the same for me."

Valiantpaw had been more subdued lately, but there was no mystery there; he was miserable about Burningfur and felt guilty about letting Twilightpaw run away. Yet despite her role in the destruction of his relationship, he and Twilightpaw had grown as close as they had ever been. He was keenly interested in her journey around Twolegs and particularly in Agro, though he didn't seem to grasp how much of an impact she'd had on his sister. That was not unusual either, and Twilightpaw knew it was pointless to try and force him to see things another way.  
Skypaw was more difficult. Moonpelt was still upset with Twilightpaw, who had very little interest in resolving that, and as a medicine cat apprentice she was still horrified that Twilightpaw had left a patient. This warred with her admiration for her friend, so Skypaw was somewhat hot and cold. At any particular moment she could be avoiding Twilightpaw or sharing tongues with her. It generally depended on whether or not Moonpelt was in the vicinity.  
There was precious little to say about Longpaw. He wanted nothing to do with her. Only once had Crimsonflame foolishly attempted to force them into reconciliation; they had sat there for an hour in the most painful kind of silence imaginable before Crimsonflame had given up.

Missingclaw's words about the Gathering had proven prophetic, so here she was, sitting at the foot of the Lightningridge. The night air was hot and sticky. There had only been one storm in all of newleaf so far. This was unusual for the time of the year; normally storms would be regularly flowing down the mountains to dump lightning and rain on the forest and moors. Without them, there might not be enough water in the streams to last the greenleaf moons. It concerned the adults, but they did their best to conceal this fear from the younger apprentices. They had never known a greenleaf and imagined it as a joyous time of food and safety. The truth was that in its own way it was just as harsh as leaf-bare, with the mountain predators descending from the slopes to hunt, the almost unbearable heat and humidity, and the wave of rogues heading north to take advantage of the lushness.  
"Does it feel humid to you? It feels a little humid to me," Cloudpaw said excitedly. His long, thick pelt was totally unsuited for heat, and his habit of fidgeting wasn't doing him any favours. Twilightpaw cast a cynical eye on him. "You might feel cooler if you stopped jumping around," she pointed out.  
"I can't help it. I'm nervous. Do you think I'll be the smallest apprentice there?"  
"Skypaw is going to be there, so straight away I can tell you no."  
"I mean _real—_I mean, _warrior _apprentices."  
"Maybe. But I doubt it. It's newleaf, there'll be new apprentices made every week. It would be odd if you were the youngest." Yet even as she thought that, she couldn't help but remember Ravenpaw, BrokenClan's dead litter, and Burningfur's dark remarks on how few of the pine Clan's kits even survived leaf-bare. How many young cats actually were there?

At last Rapidstar emerged from his den, Burningfur by his side. Her mouth was twisted grimly, but that was not strange to see anymore. As far as Twilightpaw was aware, she had escaped punishment for everything, save that she was not allowed to be alone with any apprentice. It was not even widely known of her affair with Valiantpaw. Silvertail and Stormheart were the only ones who Twilightpaw was certain knew about it, because she had sat there uncomfortably while Rapidstar told them in a monotone. Stormheart had been outraged and sickened; Silvertail had kept her thoughts to herself on the matter.  
Aside from when she was being assigned to patrols, Twilightpaw and Burningfur did not speak. She found that she missed her old mentor slightly; although she still burned with anger when she thought of the ginger she-cat's threats, she couldn't help but understand that Burningfur was probably trying to protect Valiantpaw at the time. Besides, perhaps the breakdown of Burningfur's relationship was punishment enough. She had to trust that Rapidstar knew what he was doing, or else risk taking matters into her own paws again.  
Cloudpaw nudged her, and Twilightpaw looked up to discover that the Clan leader had begun speaking.  
"…and so after recent events, I am unsure of what to expect from this Gathering. I do know that the other Clan leaders and myself will be laying charges against Clawstar at the very least. Possibly Hawkstar, as well, for breaking the code that requires him to protect kits. I don't think there will be violence, but to make sure of it, the elders will have to remain home. I am sorry," he said to Missingclaw and Ambershade, who both looked irritated, "but you are too valuable to be risked in such a way." He did not sound sorry at all, but both cats accepted his decision with only a few dark looks.  
"Why is the mutant freak allowed to go? She went last time." Dreamcloud hissed, softly but audibly. Cloudpaw pressed a paw to his face.  
"I agree," Burningfur said pointedly, glaring at Rapidstar. He raised an eyebrow at her before turning to Dreamcloud.  
"I understand you may have reservations, and were it my choice I would not let her go. But the fact remains that Twilightpaw is for all intents and purposes a brand-new apprentice, and it is the law of the Code that apprentices must go to the Gathering after their ceremony."  
"But surely it's unbalanced," Dreamcloud protested. "My kits are going, rightly so, but we also have the mutant and poor Fernleaf's child at the Gathering as well. Only Valiantpaw is staying behind. Who will protect the camp?"  
"I have left plenty of warriors, Dreamcloud, but if you are so concerned about LightningClan's safety you may stay behind, with my blessing," Rapidstar said in a tone that indicated the matter was closed. The black-and-white she-cat hissed again, but made no further response.

"I am not entirely sure what to expect from this Gathering, but it will possibly be the most important one of our generation. Remember our motto."  
"_Courage and Ferocity," _rang the whisper from a dozen or so throats. The "mottos" of each Clan were actually the selection criteria used by their original leaders to form their ranks. BrokenClan's was _Loyalty and Swiftness, _DarkClan's was _Cunning and Danger, _RainClan's was _Intelligence and Endurance, _and SnowClan's motto had been _Honour and Compassion. _HollowClan's was _Ambition and Strength._  
Rapidstar leapt down from the Lightningridge and gestured with his tail for the cats to follow him. They did so, and Twilightpaw found herself jostled into place between Cloudpaw and Lilacbreeze. The beautiful she-cat was quite clearly pregnant now and in any other Clan would have been in the nursery long ago. _Not here, _Twilightpaw thought, and strangely remembered a poem that, according to Valiantpaw, was told about LightningClan in the forest.  
_Some say the world will end in fire,  
some say in ice.  
From what I've heard of their desire  
the cats of LightningClan favour fire.  
But if they had to perish twice,  
I think they know enough of hate,  
To say that for destruction ice  
Is also great  
And would suffice.  
_She shivered. Weren't there any _good _rhymes about LightningClan?

"Why would HollowClan show up?" Cloudpaw said suddenly, jerking her out of her thoughts. They were in BrokenClan territory now.  
"Hmmm?"  
"Why would they come? They know they're in big trouble. They might even be driven off."  
Twilightpaw started as an owl hooted some distance away. Lilacbreeze sounded a deep purr in response, a way of telling the apprentice not to worry; reassured, she returned to Cloudpaw's question.  
"They'll come—or they'll come if they have any brains left—because they know it'll be worse for them if they don't. They're going to be put on trial at this Gathering, and if HollowClan isn't here they don't get to speak up in their own defence. If they don't show up, I'm pretty sure they'll be driven out of the forest. Besides, not coming to a Gathering is a violation of the Code in and of itself, you know."

Cloudpaw nodded thoughtfully at this and looked up at the trees. "Twilightpaw, are all the other Clans having bad luck because StarClan can't see them properly?"  
"Where in the heather did you get that notion?"  
"Missingclaw. He said that because all the forest Clans live under trees, they can't see the stars, and therefore the stars can't see them."  
Twilightpaw was lost for words at this. Lilacbreeze tilted her head towards them and said with amusement, "Clans have been living in the forest for many years, little one. If StarClan didn't like it, they'd have told us long ago. Remember it was StarClan who led our ancestors here in the first place from the mountains."  
"I thought it was Lightningstar," Twilightpaw replied, trying not to sound sceptical. "Lightningstar and Brokenstar and…all the other stars."  
"They came here because of dreams that StarClan sent to them. That's what the elders said when I was a kit. Of course, with each generation, a little more gets lost or confused. I doubt even RainClan remembers it the way it really happened now." Lilacbreeze looked up to the dark shapes of the pines against the sky. A faint smile appeared on her muzzle. "You should always take what Missingclaw says with a bit of salt, children. If I believed everything he told me, I would be dead. And a tom-cat."  
"What was he like as a warrior?" Twilightpaw asked.  
Lilacbreeze glanced at her now, and there was a flash of understanding in her eyes. "He was…how should I put this? Either you were worth his time or not. A cat always knew where they stood with him, no matter what Clan or background. Very grumpy, naturally. Mind you, he didn't start out that way. The Clan taught him that."  
"They bullied him."  
"That they did." She breathed out in a sigh. "I wasn't born when he was young, but my mother had a soft spot for him. She said he was the sweetest kit in the entire nursery. Then his own mother died, and there was nobody left to hide him from the whispers. They turned his blood sour."  
The whispers again. "Lilacbreeze…do you hate mutants?"  
The queen's eyes darkened. "You should know better than to ask that here, Twilightpaw. Particularly with Rapidstar so close."  
Twilightpaw had nothing to say to that, so they were halfway through the darkness of the Zone before Cloudpaw asked another question. "Aren't there any animals in the Zone? I can't smell anything."  
"The Zone is sacred to cats," Lilacbreeze replied. "The other animals fear StarClan, so they keep away."  
_Nonsense. _She had no better answer herself, though, so Twilightpaw kept quiet. There was a trace of scent in the air that felt familiar, but the odour of cat and humidity was drowning it out.

As was customary, Rapidstar paused on the outskirts of the Gathering place to look back at his Clan and remind them not to spill secrets to other Clan members. Twilightpaw shifted her weight from paw to paw, impatient. She wanted this Gathering to start, wanted to see Clawstar brought to justice for the murder of kits. At last the tom beckoned them onwards, and the moorland warriors swarmed into the moonlit grove.  
RainClan, DarkClan, and HollowClan were already there, leaving only BrokenClan still to come. They mingled freely, even with the HollowClan cats, seemingly uncaring of the slight issue that they'd been spilling each other's blood on this very earth less than a month ago. Twilightpaw pressed her pad into the dry sand and brought it to her nose. Time had cleansed most of the skirmish from the soil, but there was still a faint trace of red anguish left behind—or was that just her imagination, telling her what an old battlefield should smell like?  
A dark growl of thunder sounded overhead; her fur spiked up slightly. Clouds were swooping in to cover the stars. A medicine cat might call that an ill omen, rightly or wrongly, but Twilightpaw was simply glad at the thought of rain.

"_Here _you are." She looked up to meet red eyes. "Your Clan has no sense of punctuality."  
"You haven't started yet, so we aren't late, and therefore you have nothing to complain about," she replied tartly. "Why are you here, anyhow? You came to the last Gathering."  
"DarkClan chooses which cats are to go to Gatherings based on merit. And I would complain even less if BrokenClan got their tails here soon," Cloakedpaw responded. "Then perhaps we could all be in our dens before this storm breaks."  
Dens. _Damn it. _She had forgotten that she would be sleeping in the open as per her punishment. "I thought DarkClan cats could swim?"  
"LightningClan cats can run like the wind. Do you enjoy tornadoes?" he rapped back. Then the large black apprentice shook himself and stepped back, becoming more serious. Twilightpaw looked him over. He had grown larger and more muscular over the past moon, more like an adult now than a child, but his sleek black fur was marred by a series of scars. "Where'd you get those from?" she asked him, gesturing with her tail.  
"Just normal apprentice stuff. I scar pretty easily." He flicked his ears back. "I've got a message for you."  
"Oh, really? Is it an anonymous love message? Those are my favourites."  
"Unfortunately, not this time. It comes from a young tom who, apparently, goes by the name of Fluffy."  
"Ah," she murmured. "Him. I was wondering when he would get back to me."  
"Is his name actually Fluffy?"  
"It is now. He was bothering me one night, so I changed his name and sent him off to do something."  
He laughed a little. "Wouldn't have minded seeing that. He's got kind of an attitude problem, have you noticed?"  
"I did, actually. What's the message?"  
"Uh, he says that he's found out what you want to know. He wants you to meet him at the border tree between my territory and yours at sunhigh tomorrow. Is that cryptic enough or what?"

Twilightpaw bit her lip. "I can't go. I'm trapped in camp. It's hard enough going out to make dirt, let alone sneaking out to see an outrunner."  
Cloakedpaw frowned. "Why are you kept in camp? What'd you do?"  
She looked at him for a moment. No, he may have been kind to her, but he was still from another Clan and had no real part in her life. "Just normal apprentice stuff."  
He gave her a hard stare for a few moments, before shrugging and half-turning away. "Whatever. Anyway, I don't know where he went, so I can't get a message to him. Don't suppose you'd tell me what it was about?"  
She felt a little bad about the whole scenario, so rather foolishly she answered. "Deathstar."  
His eyes narrowed to slits. "And why would you be bossing around an outrunner for that?"  
Damn it, she was busted. "You said to me that you found her covered in blood one night and that you were suspicious of her. I am, too, so I sent Fluffy out to see what he could discover about her. That was about…I think three weeks ago." Time seemed to have changed its shape; some things seemed so far away, others might have been yesterday.  
Cloakedpaw seemed to be trying to decide if he should be angry or not. At last he said, "Don't tell me anything about what she's done or hasn't done, all right? I don't want to hear it."  
"You didn't strike me as the type to argue that ignorance is bliss," she grumbled.  
"I don't. But she's my Clan leader and I don't want to stick my head into anything that'll get me kicked out of the Clan." He eyed her. "Why'd you flinch just then?"  
"Mosquito bite."  
"I bet." He was obviously suspicious, but he didn't push her. Something flashed at the corner of her eye; she turned her head and choked on a gasp.

"What? What is it?" Cloakedpaw demanded, following her gaze.  
"That's Redpaw," she breathed softly. "And next to him…" There was no mistaking it.  
"Scourgepaw," Cloakedpaw growled, and hooked his claws into the earth. Twilightpaw started padding towards the HollowClan toms, her friend watching anxiously after her.  
She stopped just out of range of a paw-swipe, for she wasn't quite that stupid. "Hello," she said, trying to project a confidence she did not feel.  
Red met brown as he looked up. In a single moon, he had managed to age a thousand years. Her bravado faded as memories hung between them like fog on a lake. He had no words left for her, and his gaze dropped to the ground again.  
"Is there something you require, Twilightpaw?" Scourgepaw asked, politely enough, but with a hint of disdain in his tone. The moonlight glinted off his unsheathed claws, and with a flash of ghostly pain she remembered them slicing through her flesh. Now it was his eyes she found herself looking into, and she was the one who could not hold them.  
"Not _require..._exactly," she managed. Turning back to Redpaw, she found the words inside her again.  
"I'm sorry for your loss."  
Thunder snarled above; the scent of the storm stung her nostrils.  
_I'm sorry.  
_Redpaw looked up again. Scourgepaw spoke before he could open his mouth. "It's Red_eyes, _actually. He's a warrior now."  
"Congratulations," she managed, the words like ash in her throat.  
_I'm sorry.  
_There was a flash of white light and a sour reek of ozone.  
"I'm sorry too," Redeyes said at last, his voice full of bitterness and pain. A wind kicked up and plucked fretfully at the fur on their faces, yet despite the humidity and the lightning in the sky there was no scent of rain.  
"BrokenClan is here," Scourgepaw said, whirling around to face them. Redeyes turned his head, and Twilightpaw took advantage of the distraction to creep back to Cloakedpaw.

"What was the point of that?" Cloakedpaw asked, half an ear angled towards the incoming pine cats. "It's not your fault his brother died."  
She was not surprised that he remembered the incident. She was a little startled that he didn't already know.  
"I did it because someone had to say it. To apologize. Longpaw did at first, but Redpaw —Red_eyes—_wasn't ready to hear it. I don't think anyone's said anything since."  
"Sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes it's just not anyone's fault." The Clan leaders and deputies were beginning to gather on the rocks.  
"That doesn't matter, not really. It still helps. To know that someone at least understood that you were hurt." What Twilightpaw did not add was her suspicion that someone _was_ to blame for Ravenpaw's death, and it wasn't Longpaw. A weakened heart, a damaged mind. A twisted throat, missing claws, a lost ear and silver eyes. Somehow, no matter how she tried to sort things, they circled back to that one point. _Why?_

__"It's starting," Cloakedpaw said with a hint of excitement, and Twilightpaw turned back to the rocks, pushing the thought of mutations out of her head. Befitted to his position as oldest among the Clan leaders, Rapidstar spoke the words of greeting and the threat of magical retribution if there was violence. She scraped her paws in the dirt until Cloakedpaw hissed at her to shut up.  
Rapidstar cleared his throat. "This Gathering is a particularly important one, but it does not mean that we should neglect the usual traditions. LightningClan remains strong, despite the events of late. Recently we lost one of our bravest and kindest warriors, Fernleaf. She hunts with StarClan now, and will watch over us from above forever."  
There was a murmur of condolence from the assembled cats. Greyfire had not come to this Gathering, but Longpaw was there, head bowed and grey fur silver in the starlight.  
"Fernleaf. That's Longpaw's mother, yes?"  
"That's right," she replied dully.  
"And how is he cop—" Thankfully, before Cloakedpaw could finish his question, Rapidstar had returned to his address.  
"There is much happier news. Two of our apprentices have been made into warriors: Wolfclaw and Crimsonflame. They have sworn to serve LightningClan with all their power, and to respect the ways of StarClan."  
The two young cats stepped forwards to receive the accolades of the cats nearby.  
Rapidstar did not mention Crimsonflame's new apprentice. Perhaps he thought it made them look weak, or he was simply impatient for the Gathering to move on. "We also have two new apprentices. Cloudpaw and Skypaw, the kits of Dreamcloud. Cloudpaw's mentor is Whisperhunt, while Skypaw has chosen to take the honoured path of the medicine cat and serves under Moonpelt." He bowed his head and stepped back into the darkness. Cloudpaw stood up proudly, absorbing the attention from his new friends, but Skypaw remained firmly hidden in her mentor's shadow.

Deathstar moved forward next, but she had little to say of interest, aside from mentioning that her Clan had found the tracks of a wolverine. Twilightpaw's ears pricked at this and the ensuing discussion, but since nobody had any ideas on how to effectively deal with a beast as vicious and cunning as the _gulo, _nothing came of it.  
Shadowstar had likewise little to speak of; just a few new apprentices and a litter of kits. There was a tense note in her voice—did she think, perhaps, that charges were going to be laid against her Clan? After all, she was partially responsible for the conflict.  
Then it was Hawkstar's turn.  
"I speak first and foremost to thank the other Clan leaders for their part in rescuing the BrokenClan kit that was lost to us in the battle last moon." Hawkstar's eyes were raised to the sky, determinedly looking away from any cat. "Every kit is precious to us, particularly the last of a litter. That kit has fully recovered and may even be standing with us in a few moons' time as an apprentice." Twilightpaw thought of the poor kit's sister. _Does Hawkstar not want to mention her or has he actually forgotten?  
_Hawkstar cleared his throat. "Speaking of which, one of BrokenClan's apprentices has been made into a warrior. She was unable to come to the Gathering tonight, but Greenpaw has been made into Greensight. We also has a new deputy. Flyingfeather was no longer suitable for the position, for reasons that shall not be disclosed, so she has been replaced by Timbercrest." He nodded to the sleek brown tomcat that sat by his side. There were a few cries of welcome, but most cats remained silent. Twilightpaw wondered what had happened to Flyingfeather. Had she simply been demoted, or had she been driven away? _The word of the Clan leader is the Warrior Code._ Also known as the very definition of stupidity. If you didn't give your councillors freedom of thought, how were you supposed to know if your decisions were good ones? Wasn't it the point of the deputy to act as a second leader, to make plans and go ahead with them when the true Clan leader was indisposed?  
"We have no other news of note." He turned away.

There was a moment of silence between the Clan leaders as they waited for Clawstar to speak. At last he stood, informed the Clans of two new apprentices and Redeyes' promotion, and sat down. His chin was tilted proudly and his hazel eyes flashed in the moonlight.  
Deathstar took the plunge and got to her paws again. "Cats of all Clans, you are all aware of the travesty that called itself a battle, which occurred less than a moon ago. I swore that if I lived to see this Gathering, I would lay charges against Clawstar, who was the perpetrator of that skirmish. So I said, and so it is. I, Deathstar, leader of mighty DarkClan, accuse Clawstar of breaking the Warrior Code. I accuse him of breaking Codes Two, Twelve and Fourteen, as well as their respective Amendments. My proof is obvious to all. Clawstar exterminated SnowClan, kidnapped kits from BrokenClan and RainClan, and triggered a battle that resulted in many casualties—including the death of an innocent kit and a brave apprentice who happened to be one of the last of the Forsaken Clan. Do you have anything to say in your defence?"  
"By what right do _you _judge me, Deathstar?" Clawstar replied, swiftly and coldly. "By what right does the bear decide the fate of the wolf, killers both? Your Clan's paws are just as bloody as mine. Punish me, then, drown in your own hypocrisy, and await my vengeance."  
"Do you think I am afraid, Clawstar?" the small she-cat said in a voice that was quiet and yet carrying. "I fear no mortal. I do not claim that my Clan is innocent. We are warriors, and blood is in our nature. We are not called DarkClan for our kindness. But there is a line between honourable battle and violence for violence's sake, and you crossed it when you slit the belly of that SnowClan queen open."  
"Punish me, then," Clawstar repeated, and he looked strangely magnificent, standing as tall as he was able and glaring directly into the other leaders' eyes.  
"You have no true defence?" Rapidstar cut between them in a tone drained of emotion. "As you wish."  
"No, I need no justification," the tom spat, "I answer to StarClan above and the demons of the Dark Forest below, may they sleep forever. I am a Clan leader and my duty to them surpasses any noble feelings I might have about _honour _or _compassion. _My Clan's kits were hungry. Each year, there is less and less prey. Whatever has driven them out of the Zone is spreading into my lands, and I refused to sit back and condemn the cats I swore loyalty for to a long, slow death of starvation. I asked Brightstar to allow my Clan to hunt in hers. A small patch, one that would not have done hers any harm and saved mine. She spat in my face and called me coward. You know this, fellow leaders, you were there. What did you expect me to do? Sit back tamely and watch you grow fat on land you didn't need? SnowClan was weak and always had been. They didn't deserve the gifts they never earned. So yes, I took their territory, I took it the way the warriors of old did. I claimed their land by blood and violence and conquest. Sit back on your rumps and feel superior if you wish. I took the only course I had and if any of you truly believe that if you would have done differently in my place then you are no Clan leader at all." His sides were heaving with emotion, and Twilightpaw realized that he was rather thin.

The Clan leaders exchanged glances, and Shadowstar seemed about to speak, but Rapidstar shook his head at her before rising.  
"Clawstar, we understand that your Clan was suffering—is suffering. But they were _children, _Clan leader. Innocent as the dawn."  
"That is the greatest illusion of all," the white tom said bitterly.  
"What is?"  
"Innocence," Clawstar spat, and turned away.  
Rapidstar let the remark pass. "My recommendation for your punishment is your total and permanent exile from the forest. Your deputy shall take your place. You will have two suns to remove yourself from Clan territories and go where you will, so long as you do not return here." He looked to the other Clan leaders. "Is this acceptable?"  
"I am satisfied," Deathstar said instantly, and Hawkstar concurred. Shadowstar's eyes narrowed, but she was outvoted and did not speak.  
"Aye, I accept," Clawstar said icily, "but HollowClan's needs remain the same. We must have new prey."  
"Perhaps HollowClan should leave, then," Shadowstar said indifferently, and the hazel-eyed leader hissed slowly.  
"HollowClan need not go anywhere," Rapidstar growled. "Permission shall be granted for them to extend their non-Clan boundary as far as they feel necessary." Clawstar looked away, grim, and Twilightpaw guessed that he had already extended his border as far as he possibly could.

"What of SnowClan territory?" Shadowstar insisted, fur bristling slightly. "Something must happen to it."  
"Nothing will happen to it." It was Deathstar this time. "Whether the Clan is there or not, the land still belongs to them and shall do so until they fade from our memories."  
"Agreed," Hawkstar and Rapidstar said simultaneously. Shadowstar thrashed her tail in anger but she didn't waste he breath on arguing.  
Clawstar eyed the other Clan leaders, then leaped down from the boulder to land a few tail-lengths from Venomfang, whose face was cast in shadow. Touching his nose to his deputy's, he spoke.  
"I say this before the spirits of StarClan whether they agree with my choice or not. For my final act as leader of HollowClan, I appoint Venomfang as leader of HollowClan after me. Fight first and fall last, Clan warrior, and bow your head to none." With one last look at the gathered cats, the cat who had once been Clawstrike and Clawstar cleared the tangle of rocks in a single leap before disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

What became of Claw, you might ask? No Clan warrior ever saw him again; that I know for certain. He came to my world as all spirits do, and I saw his past and I kept silent as his judgement was made. Where his soul went is a secret I hold dear, but you have forborne my company for so long that I feel you deserve a hint: He is not where you think he is.

The Clan cats watched the space where Claw had been for a time before the silence was broken with Venomfang filling the emptiness on the high rock. The leaders visibly shook themselves and Rapidstar turned to Hawkstar.  
"You too must be punished, Hawkstar. You endangered kits," he said in a tone that indicated he was sick of the entire business. Twilightpaw was in whole-hearted agreement, for she was tired, confused, and the storm was making her head ache. Cloakedpaw sat quite comfortably, one ear crooked back over his head, moonlight glinting off their silver tips.  
"I did nothing wrong," Hawkstar began heatedly, but Deathstar cut him off with a wave of her tail. The DarkClan leader wasn't going to be very popular if she kept behaving like that, Twilightpaw mused. It was only her second Gathering as a leader and she acted like she held more respect than Rapidstar. Perhaps it was self-assuredness; after all, her Clan was probably the most powerful of them all, or maybe it was simply contempt for the traditions of the forest warriors. Hawkstar glowered at the she-cat, but said nothing, and she fixed her amber gaze on him as she spoke.  
"Spare us your protests, Hawkstar. We have had enough. Replace your deputy and hide behind the Clan Leader's Word if you must, but anyone with eyes can see through you. It is my request that you be barred from attending Gatherings for four moons."  
"_What?_" the BrokenClan leader snarled.  
"I accept," Shadowstar said quietly, and Twilightpaw could tell from her slumped shoulders that the RainClan leader was thinking of her own sins.

Deathstar looked imploringly at Rapidstar. His vote would be the deciding factor; if he took Hawkstar's side, the decision would be vetoed. As he had not received his nine lives and name yet, Venomfang had no right to vote, although his lip did curl slightly.  
"Very well," Rapidstar said with a sigh. "Barred for four moons. Should any of your cats arrive, they will be treated as any trespasser would be."  
"And what if there are issues that involve my Clan?"  
"Then you pay the price for your non-involvement in the past. With BrokenClan's numbers, the battle with HollowClan would have been won long before." Rapidstar lifted his head to the stars. "I am weary of talk. This Gathering is finished." He took slightly longer than the other Clan leaders to jump to the ground, and Twilightpaw thought that he looked old.  
"See you later," Twilightpaw said to Cloakedpaw, and he inclined his head to her. "Take care, Twilightpaw. And don't trust that outrunner or anything he says without proof."  
"I won't," she agreed, and headed off to join her Clan.

Rapidstar ushered his Clan through the trees with a sweep of his tail. As they flickered through the empty forest, they came upon RainClan. Twilightpaw found her eyes drawn to those of Shadowstar, but there was no recognition in the Clan leader's gaze. Rapidstar merely nodded to the she-cat, but the two Clans walked together for a time in the moonlight, before RainClan left to follow their own god home. Twilightpaw found herself looking for Shiverpaw, even though she knew that it would be unlikely for her to appear at two Gatherings in a row. For a moment she thought she did see a flash of grey eyes, but when she turned to look there was nothing but ferns and silver-edged shadows.  
Lightning twisted and snarled above their heads as the Clan returned to the moors of home, and a gust of wind brought an acrid scent to their nostrils. It reminded Twilightpaw of the scent of Twolegs.  
"Smoke," the hare said, ears twitching in alarm. His claim was verified by the hushed whispers of other warriors. Rapidstar reared up on his hind legs for a few moments before going back to all fours and turning to them.  
"I don't see any flames, but from the sound of things it's in the north. I hope it's not an intense burn. The forest has suffered enough damage over the past seasons as it is."  
"Are we in danger?" Skypaw asked, tail twitching.  
"No, little one," Moonpelt said before Rapidstar could respond. "The moors are flat, sandy, and don't have much vegetation. Fires burn best on slopes and among the trees. If it does come here, we'll be able to escape quickly and it won't do the land any harm. Grassfires don't burn that hot."  
"I'll post a few extra guards in any case, as a precaution," Rapidstar said."Try and screen the mouths of your dens with grass to keep the smoke out. We don't want any coughs or throat infections." He started walking again. Moonpelt followed after him, bristling slightly. Was she upset that her Clan leader was doing her job for her? Twilightpaw would have thought it came with the territory.

When they finally arrived at the camp, Rapidstar called all the cats to the Lightningrock and began to explain what had occurred at the Gathering. Twilightpaw was more distracted by something else—Longpaw was missing. Nobody except her appeared to have noticed. She tried to tell herself that he would be fine, that he could take care of himself, but an increasingly loud part of her mind disagreed. Near-warrior or not, he was alone in the dark with an ex-HollowClan leader and a fire on the loose.  
She glanced at the other Clan warriors; their gazes were fixed on Rapidstar, who was staring upwards as he always did when he spoke. Twilightpaw muttered something about making dirt to the cat next to her, who nodded distractedly. She quickly trotted through the tunnel and out into the open air.  
The smoke was clearly visible now, forming a small cloud beneath the storm, which appeared to be moving on without rain. The wind had picked up and her nostrils wrinkled at the pungent odour of smoke. She retraced the Clan's steps back through their territory, stopping when she found Longpaw's scent. He had diverted from the group not long after they'd crossed their border, perhaps even while Rapidstar had been talking. She cursed herself for not noticing earlier. She cast a wary glance at where the moon glowed through the storm remnants. How long did she have before the Clan noticed she was missing? If she was lucky, they might not realize at all. Cats tended to go straight to their nests after Gatherings, and as she slept outside no-one would note her absence. A sense of déjà vu haunted her pawsteps as she followed Longpaw's trail through the shadowy moors; the last time she had followed a friend into the night, disaster had struck.

He appeared to be heading towards the spur of land that jutted into RainClan territory. Why would he do that? She had thought he might have been heading towards his mother's grave, next to his siblings, but that was on the banks of the river in the opposite part of the territory. Worse still, he was getting closer to the fire, and the stench of smoke was thickening until it became difficult to scent his traces.  
At last, very near the edge of LightningClan territory, Longpaw's scent terminated at the base of a huge chunk of stone that jutted into the sky. It had no name, but sometimes the braver warriors would bask in the sun and watch the border on it. Twilightpaw looked up to see the tall, slender tom perched on the peak of the stone, staring out into the distance. She put her paws on the stone hesitantly, and a piece cracked between them and shuddered to the earth. Longpaw twitched and turned towards her. He said nothing, and after a few moments he returned to watching the emptiness.  
Reassured by his lack of reaction, Twilightpaw sprang onto the rock, quickly scaling its heights before it could crumble beneath her. The distance between her and solid ground pricked at her spine, but before she could lose her courage her hare cleared the distance and sat at the top beside Longpaw, watching and waiting with his bright eyes.  
"To get through the hardest journey we need only to take one step at a time, but we must keep on stepping," he told her. "Focus on the stars." A few had appeared through breaks in the cloud, beautiful and cold. She thought of Silvertail, and the silver warrior she had seen in her vision, and moved to Longpaw's side.

Instantly Twilightpaw saw what had fascinated him. A line of flame burned through a section of the forest, devouring trees with its hot breath and spitting out white smoke into the sky. It leaped and flowed, writhed and ebbed; she found it hard to believe that it was not alive. A particularly bright star pulsed over the fire, and perhaps it was merely some trick of the wildfire's red glow, but the star glittered scarlet. The torrid wind whipped the tortured sounds of burning to her ears, and she shuddered from it.  
"It's in SnowClan territory," Longpaw said at last without moving his gaze. Startled, she realized that he was right. Although trees were toppling by the dozen, there were no animal cries. SnowClan's lands had been barren of undergrowth and mostly populated by bird life, who would have flown away long ago. It was a small mercy.  
"The Forsaken Land," she murmured, mostly to herself. Longpaw responded regardless.  
"It was all a lie, you know. SnowClan was never forsaken by StarClan. Its intended leader, Snowdrift, gave her life to ensure that the Clans would reach their greener pastures. Our ancestors would never have punished them for that. All of SnowClan's suffering came at the paws of mortals, who told themselves a more convenient truth."  
"I suppose it doesn't matter anymore," she sighed. "It will take lifetimes for the trees to regrow. No-one, not Shadowstar, not Venomfang, not even SnowClan themselves, would want it now."  
"It will be different," Longpaw said softly. "Now that the trees have gone, there will be enough sunlight for the undergrowth to redevelop. Who knows what it'll look like in ten or twenty years. Not that we'd live to see it anyhow. But it just seems…a waste. All of that blood spilled…and now it doesn't mean anything."

Twilightpaw looked out into the glowing hell in front of her and felt the heat touch the tips of her whiskers. "I'm so sorry that I left your mother, Longpaw."  
For a while he was silent. Then he turned to meet her eyes.  
"I know. I do know. And I know that she would have died anyway, with or without you there. Rapidstar told me that you went to find Valiantpaw. I just wish…wish you had woken me before you followed him. I would have kept your secret, you know I would have."  
She hung her head. "How do I make this up to you, Longpaw? I've thought and thought but I can't find anything that would go anywhere near close enough. But I want to try. I'm sick of being hated wherever I go."  
Again there was a period of quiet before he responded. "There are two things you can do. They won't be easy for you, but I'd like you to try, anyway."  
"Of course," she said, slightly puzzled.  
"Okay. First of all, I want you to stop seeing yourself at the centre of things and pitying yourself, because quite honestly it's annoying and it doesn't help anything." She stared at him. "I mean it, Twilightpaw. It's okay to be a little self-centred but you're way more than that. You just said it yourself, earlier. You're sick of being hated everywhere you go. You're not hated everywhere, and you know it. I don't hate you, Valiantpaw doesn't hate you, most of the warriors don't hate you. You were at the Gathering today with that DarkClan apprentice, and he doesn't seem to hate you either. You only think they do because then you can feel superior and look down on them. It's hard to hate things, you know. A lot of cats don't like you _because _you always act like you're being martyred. They're older and wiser than you and they deserve respect—they _know _they deserve respect—but you don't give it so that ruffles their feathers. You're a mutant, and yes, that makes things harder for you and yes, there is prejudice against that, but if you just took a few deep breaths and just acted like an apprentice for a while, they'd respond in the right way." He took a breath himself.  
"All right," Twilightpaw said, gripping the stone with her claws, "no more narcissism. I'll try."  
He nodded. "The second thing is for you to promise me, right here and now, that you'll never break your word again unless upholding it endangers you or someone else."  
Twilightpaw glanced out at the fiery forest again. "I promise to never break my promises. I swear that on…the memory of Snowdrift."  
"Good enough," Longpaw said with a sigh. "Let's go home, before the smoke kills us both." She nodded in agreement, and turned to leave, when suddenly the heavens opened up and dumped a torrent of stinging rain onto them. Both young cats shrieked in disgust and raced home.  
"I can't believe I'm meant to _sleep_ in this," Twilightpaw said bitterly as they stumbled through the sand. "Wait, that doesn't count as narcissism, does it?"  
"No, that's okay."  
"Oh, and what happens if a cat really does decide to give me hell for the sake of it? Am I allowed to snark him?"  
"If you absolutely must."


End file.
